You're Buggered, Siriusly!
by Leiste15
Summary: Sirius breaks out of Azkaban two years before schedule. He's pissed, half-mad and prepared to do anything to protect his Godson. He's going to make the Wizarding world pay for the hell they put him through- and have some fun along the way, of course! Super! Sirius, Dark Lord! Sirius, but not evil. No slash. May include ships later. Mainly from Sirius' (and Harry's) point of view.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Yeah, I own Harry Potter. Yeah, I'm the King of the World too. I knocked out Superman last week and stole his lunch money, poor kid. Did I mention I'm dating Emma Watson?**

**Btw, if you believe all that, you need help.**

**Author's Note: **This is my first foray into the world of fan fiction. I'm not a native English speaker, so please bear with me if I make mistakes. My English is a weird mix of British and American English, you have been warned. I know, I don't understand it myself. I hope you have fun reading this, though!

**Warning: **Probably not everyone's cup of tea. Please take a good, long look at the rating (and the genre).

**Chapter 1- Escape**

Padfoot pricked his ears as he heard the sound of two distinct pairs of footsteps in the corridor outside his prison cell. He whined softly, piteously and, with a tired grunted of effort, slowly forced himself into his ravaged human form.

Sirius knelt for a moment on the floor, helpless, struggling to cope against the sudden, bitter flood of raw emotions and memories that assailed him once again, vastly sharpened by his transformation back to his human shape. He could feel no Dementors nearby though; no, it was not yet the time for their feeding. No, this was not their doing; however, he needed no Dementors to remind him of his pain, his greatest failing, his shame.

The Dementors would come later and leech on the remains of his magic, his self-esteem, his anger; sap on his spirit until it was but a pale trickle of what it had once been; their icy touch seeping in even through the obsidian walls of the strongest Occlumency shields he could muster in his debilitated state.

Occlumency, and his willpower, had helped him retain vestiges of his sanity, but his mind was not what it had once been. It had weakened, and at times he struggled to hold on basic concepts like time and hunger. His emotions had been deadened, until he could feel very little but weariness.

Sorrow had left scars in his heart and soul that even time could not heal.

He was innocent of the crimes he had been accused of, he knew, but that was not enough to preserve his sanity, not anymore.

He keeled over and lay on the rough stone floor, his cheeks pressed against the sharp gravel. He sighed and blinked a couple of times, his eyes crusty and swollen with unshed tears, taking in the hatefully familiar walls of his tiny cell. His eyes flicked over the small scratches he had made on the wall to help him keep track of the time. It had been 10 years since his incarceration.

The footsteps that he had heard earlier drew nearer. He sat up with much effort and slowly crawled into the pile of rags in the corner that passed for his bed. He settled with his back to the wall, facing the door – he would be blasted back if he was found near the doors.

The footsteps paused and the heavy, smooth steel door opened smoothly. Strong red light fell inside. He was forced to scrunch his eyes tightly against the glare of a powerful Lumos that came out of the tip of a long, thin wand.

Two Aurors glanced at him, saying nothing, their faces grim. One of them knelt and placed a small plate of gruel on the floor and pushed it towards him, while his companion trained his still-lighted wand on him, looking tight lipped and stern.

"Eat," the kneeling guard told him, not unkindly.

Sirius cocked his head to the side, but otherwise gave no other indication he had understood.

The guards seemed unsurprised by this behavior. They looked at him a moment more, to ensure he hadn't hurt himself like some prisoners were wont to do, and then went out. The door slammed shut a moment later.

His eyes took a moment to adjust to the sudden darkness. The gruel appeared as unpalatable as ever and just looking at him made him sick, but his stomach growled eagerly, reminding him that he had not been fed since yesterday. He sighed and forced himself to transform again into his animagus form- Padfoot didn't mind the taste so much, he had found. Now that the guards had gone, he would have no need for his human form.

The tall, thin, mangy mutt padded forward and buried his nose in the food,

"…Quirinus dead?"

"That's what my aunt said…"

Faint words, so faint that his human ears would have surely missed it, came to him. It was the guards who had visited his cell earlier. They were farther down the hallway, giving food to the prisoners there, and talking amongst themselves in low voices.

"…in Hogwarts? Are you sure? How is that even possible?!"

"…That place is going to the dogs, if you ask me. Dumbledore wrote a letter to my aunt, conveying his condolences and sent her his belongings, such that he had. Poor woman, didn't even get to see her son's body, let alone give him a proper burial."

"…he die though?"

"…official reason is that a dangerous artifact caused an accident. But I heard Bones whispering with the Minister earlier. Dumbledore claims it was You-Know-Who possessing Quirinus that caused his death."

Sirius felt a mild surge of curiosity when Dumbledore's name came up, but it was distant and suppressed. Words had ceased to have meaning for him and he listened without really understanding what was being said.

"Merlin's balls, man, what does Dumbledore think he's playing at?!"

"And that's not all-" the other guard continued, "Dumbledore claims that Harry Potter –yes, you heard it right, _the _Harry Potter- helped stop him from getting his hands on this magical artifact that was being kept at the school."

Harry…_Potter. _The name stirred something within Sirius, something hidden and deeply buried, and treasured beyond measure. A dozen hallowed memories with a man with laughing hazel eyes, messy hair arose in his mind. They were fuzzy with age and neglect – but they were there and they came to him when he heard that name.

"…_Godfather to my little boy Harry right, Pad?" James Potter asked him, swatting him on the back, his voice thick with emotion, but doing his best to hide it._

_"Do you even have to ask James?" Sirius answered after a moment. He turned his face away determinedly, swiped at his eyes, swallowed the lump in his throat and then turned back to look at his brother in all but blood._

_ They grinned at each other, and then down at the one day old baby, with messy black hair, that was sleeping peacefully in a small cot inside the room._

Fresh tears welled in his eyes and Padfoot whined, shaking his head from side to side in an uncharacteristic motion for a dog. He remembered years of laughter and joy, and then he remembered how it felt to have it all taken away from him in an instant.

"How does he expect anyone to swallow that drivel?"

The words pulled Padfoot out of his memories. He listened in earnest now, no longer interested in his food. It was a struggle to comprehend the words.

"Perhaps Dumbledore has finally cracked. He's certainly well past his prime. You should have seen the Minister's face when he heard that bit about Voldemort- looked like Christmas had been cancelled. He was willing to go along with it, you know. Luckily, his advisors were able to talk some sense into him, and urged him to stop Dumbledore from going to the press and scaring everyone needlessly."

"Incompetent bastard, our Minister, if ever there was one," there was a loud, dismissive snort.

"Shh, you fool, don't insult him, not even here!"

"Oh pshh, you worry too much. Who is going to hear us, them?" the voice scoffed.

"You never know, "the other guard replied defensively, "I'd rather not occupy the cell next to yours for treason, if that's all right with you."

They both fell silent after that, though their footsteps drew nearer still, until they were passing by his door.

Padfoot whined. What had happened to Harry, though? If this… Quirinus had been killed, then was his godson alright?

As if his mind had been read, that exact question was asked next, "What is this bit about Harry Potter, though? How is the boy supposed to have stopped… well, Quirinus from getting the magical artifact?"

"As to that, I am as clueless as you are. Heard that he almost died, though, - had to spend three days in the Hospital wing. He experienced severe magic exhaustion and sustained first degree burns on his hands, I'm told. They were sure that he wasn't going to make it. But he surprised everyone - again, I might add- and survived; barely. It was a magical miracle, according to Bones. And this is not for the first time the lad has been in danger, apparently. A troll was let in to Hogwarts once during Halloween and Harry, along with a friend, fought it off, though nothing happened to him then. He is either extremely brave or extremely foolish, or both."

Sirius's heart awoke at the words and hammered strongly, painfully in his chest. A long forgotten feeling awoke in his heart them, and grew steadily, until it was burning, and then it began burning so harshly that it seared his heart to life. It took him a long moment to identify the feeling, but then it came to him; it was anger, pure, raging, righteous anger, and it burned in him until he was seeing red. He knew he was a shadow of a man, a pale shade of what he had once been- but even now, at his lowest low, when he was treading the edge of the abyss to insanity, he knew with complete certainty that Harry had no place fighting battles at Hogwarts. He knew Harry had no place fighting Dark Wizards or trolls. Harry, his _godson_, had no business being injured and almost dying when he was _11 years old_.

"If you ask me, I think Quirinus got greedy and decided to mess around with magic he didn't understand, and died as a result – and poor Potter was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time." The footsteps, and the voices, faded as the guards took the stairs downwards.

Padfoot transformed into Sirius and slowly, laboriously, for the first time in months, stood up as a man. He began to pace slowly, his mind whirring. His thoughts were sluggish at first, but they became clearer as he forced himself to think.

He ignored, with some effort, the dark cloud of depression that whispered in his ear to just give up, that he wasn't strong enough for this, nor had he ever been. Only his godson's tiny face as he had last seen it, and the images of James and Lily laughing in his mind, gave him strength to keep the darkness at bay.

Harry was not being protected or looked after well enough and he was clearly risking his neck needlessly, when older and more experienced wizards, like Dumbledore, should be handling the problems. Not that he could blame Harry – after all, James and Sirius had been exactly like that at his age. But he and James had never been in serious life-and-death situations, nor had they ever come close to dying when they had been 11.

Sirius frowned and stopped pacing, staring at the scrabbly wall of his cell.

It was not as if he had expected Dumbledore to actually protect Harry. If it was one thing he had learned over the years, it was that that man was eccentric, and not infallible. He was a brilliant man, it was true, but he seemed to think that his intelligence and experience somehow entitled him to meddle in and control the lives of others. He was prone to "guiding" his charges, even when no guidance was necessary, or wanted.

Sirius was not stupid enough to think so much could have happened under the man's nose without his knowledge, and probably his consent. He thought over the guards words, struggling to cobble the information together in his mind. Dumbledore had stored an artifact at the school, with full knowledge that someone could, and probably would, come after it. Sirius did not doubt that Voldemort was alive – he had been there that night, he had felt the strange magic in the air, he had felt a weak tainted presence whisper by him as he had arrived, just a minute too late, to save his friends. He hadn't paid it much heed then – he hadn't paid much heed to anything, including Harry, to his lasting regret- but he knew with certainty that Voldemort hadn't died.

Dumbledore was many things, but he did not lie, and if he said Voldemort had possessed Quirinus, then Sirius believed him.

Sirius muttered a harsh curse under his breath as he realized the implications of Voldemort being alive. Sirius had known the prophecy, he knew that Voldemort considered his godson the greatest threat to his continued existence and he would not rest until he was dead. And now, it seemed, Voldemort was trying to rise to power again. And he would manage to do so soon enough, Sirius thought, if Dumbledore played his foolish games and listened to stupid prophecies. If he knew the old man, and Sirius did know him better than most, he wouldn't interfere too much with Voldemort's rise. He would actually allow Voldemort to come back and face Harry, believing it to be pre-ordained.

And Harry would have to face the monster by himself. An unwelcome image of his godson, murdered, his small body lying bleeding and lifeless on the floor, came into his mind in response to his fears.

Other dark memories came in the wake of this troubling image.

The dam broke and tears fell from his eyes, fast and furious, as he remembered his dead friends, his dead family. James lying in the hallway, his glasses askew, his brown eyes staring, unseeing, at the ceiling, his beloved wand lying, snapped into two, beside his head.

Lily, her beautiful red hair askew, spread-eagled on the floor of the nursery, her eyes closed, her hands clasped together on her stomach, as if in prayer.

And Harry, silent, his wide, expressive green eyes peering at him trustingly, bleeding from a gash in his forehead- but strangely, miraculously, alive!

That memory of Harry, still alive, gave him hope.

His family wasn't all dead- Harry still remained. But for how long?

Sirius forced himself to think again. Sirius had possessed one of the greatest minds in the Wizarding world, he had been told. He had been feared for his intelligence as much as for his magical power in his prime. But he knew he had lost much of his mental acuity, bit by bit, in Azkaban.

Even so, he was not an unintelligent man, even now. He may have lost his pride here, his arrogance, but his intelligence remained, rusty but functioning.

Dumbledore had been hoping to either draw Voldemort out, and, as far as Sirius knew, he had done nothing to trap or kill him. This could only mean that Dumbledore was actually training Harry. He was allowing him to test his strength, allowing his godson to risk his life, allowing the only living remainder of his family to face one of the greatest Dark Lords the world had ever known without the support of a 100 Aurors at his side.

Sirius let out a growl of frustration, more animal than human.

Sirius had always been skeptical of the prophecy, but he had to admit it had come true, in a way. But he still did not believe that Harry should have to face Voldemort on his own- not when he was still in school, at any rate. The prophecy said nothing about when Voldemort had to killed, or if Harry had to do it alone. Nor did the prophecy say anything about Voldemort's followers, the Death Eaters.

Sirius, if he had it his way, would kill ever last Death Eater that threatened his godson, dance on their dead bodies and drink their blood if that's what it took to keep Harry safe. Even if the prophecy was true and Harry had to be the one to kill the Dark Lord, Sirius would injure Voldemort so severely that he wouldn't be able to so much as move his little finger, let alone raise his wand against Harry, when the time came.

Sirius smiled. If the Dark Lord had seen him then, he would have put serious thought into finding a new profession… far, far away from England.

Sirius, however, knew he could do nothing here, trapped in Azkaban. He would have to get out first, recover his strength and bide his time.

But how would he go about doing that?

He began to pace in his tiny cell again, muttering under his breath. Slowly the germ of an idea began to sprout in his head. It wouldn't be easy, but he had nothing to lose at this point. He would have only one chance to get it right, though.

* * *

Padfoot lay crouched against the walls of his cell. The dog's mouth was bared in a growl and his emaciated body was stretched taut, thin muscles straining, ready for a leap.

The sound of footsteps came to his door again. It was time again for his feeding. The door opened smoothly and the light of a Lumos shone inside.

"Here you go… AAAAAH,"

Instead of human eyes, the light of the spell had fallen on the eyes of a feral Grimm, which shone with a horrifying otherworldly light.

Padfoot pounced on the Auror with a primal growl that seemed to shake the walls of the cell. His weight, even in the state he was in, and the power of the leap was enough to easily bowl the man over, hard. The man fell helplessly backwards, still screaming. His head banged against the floor with a sickening crack. His wand slipped out of his suddenly lax grip and went rolling across the floor.

The other guard was still staring in shock at the terrifying Grimm that had suddenly appeared and downed his partner. His wand was clutched, forgotten, in a shaking hand against his side. Before he could recover his wits, Padfoot, in one of the fastest transformations in his life that was fueled primarily by adrenaline, instead of jumping on the second guard, jumped after the wand. He transformed in midair, snagged the wand, executed a tight roll and stood on his feet. He whipped around in the same motion and, with a huge effort of will and determination, shot the weakest stunner he had ever shot in his life against the second guard,

"_Stupefy."_

The second guard fell to the feeble red light, his mouth open and staring stupidly in shock.

Sirius collapsed where he stood, panting. Thin beads of sweat dripped down his face and a black mist threatened his vision. His breathing was ragged, and his lungs burned as if they were on fire. He took a moment to gather himself, as best he could. He would not last long before he fell unconscious. His body was on its last legs.

He slowly rose to his feet and shuffled across to the door, staring down at the guards. The first guard was moaning weakly and clutching at his head, but didn't seem to realize what had happened. The second guard was still unconscious, but the stunner had been week and Sirius did not expect it to be long before he recovered.

He gathered the thin remnants of his magic to himself.

"_Obliviate_," he whispered once, tiredly, pointing his wand on the guard that was clutching his head. He had to fight his magic to get it down the wand, which felt warm to the touch. Magic had come to him so easily once, he thought sadly, and now he had less power than a Hogwarts first year. It felt good to hold a wand, though, after all these years, and he couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his mouth.

The guard wouldn't remember anything of the last hour. He should have done more, like pull the memory out of his mind entirely instead of burying it, but he was barely standing as it was. He would just have to trust to the usual Ministry incompetence.

The hallway outside was clean and brightly lit, in stark contrast to the hellhole that was his cell. Nobody had heard the guards scream. He could sense several Dementors at the end of the hallway. Security, even in the most secure wing in the prison, was lax. After all, nobody expected a bunch of half-dead madmen to put up resistance of any kind.

Sirius gathered his magic to himself again. He would somehow have to find the energy to cast two more spells, the last he would manage that day.

If anything went wrong with his plan, he would be killed or, worse, Kissed. He just felt tired, though – he wasn't afraid of anything much anymore, least of all death. Death would be a welcome relief at this point. If he was going to die, at least it would be on his terms.

Sirius pointed the wand, which shook with barely repressed tremors, to the second guard and muttered,

"_Enervate_."

The guard woke with a gasp, blinking.

Before he could understand what was going on, Sirius shot another spell at him, with a tired flick of his wand, "_Imperio_."

The Auror, who were trained to throw off two of the Unforgivables as part of his standard training, tried to shake it off. Sirius, however, batted his will aside as easily as if it had been the will of a baby. He had held on to his sanity for 11 years of torturous hell with his will alone, and it had been strong to begin with. Now, he doubted there were many alive who could match the strength of his will.

Sirius clutched at the wall for support and rubbed at his eyes tiredly. He willed the man to levitate his fallen companion inside and stun him, come out and close the door behind him. The guard followed his instructions to the letter and soon stood in front of Sirius, staring stupidly.

Sirius instructed the guard to cast glamours on him that would make Sirius look like the downed guard.

Sirius then willed the man to help him walk down the hallway. The guard put his arm around Sirius obediently and, together, they slowly began moving. Sirius shuddered and shook as the Dementors came near. The guard, in respond to another willed command, cast his Patronus. A silvery hare shot out of his wand and began circling the two men. Sirius, for the first time in 11 years, felt the warmth of happiness, but it was not his own.

The Dementors, apart from falling back several steps in response to the Patronus, did not pay them any heed. Two human guards had walked in and now two human guards were walking out, though one of them appeared oddly weak. They felt no concern over it.

* * *

Sirius stood staring out at the dark grey waters of the seething ocean. Azkaban loomed behind him, tall, strong and foreboding. He had sent the guard back, but hadn't removed the_ Imperius_ curse. He would use the guard for a while more before releasing him. He would need to know when the Ministry discovered his escape and the reaction it generated. He could use a spy in the Ministry.

Sirius walked to the edge of the cliff and peered down disinterestedly. A hundred feet below, waves crashed against a wall of rocks in a mass of white foam. He had found out from the guard that the wards on Azkaban did not extend to the base of the island.

Sirius silently threw himself in a dive off the cliff. His eyes closed of their own accord from the force of the wind, which pressed against his body and whipped his hair about. A second before he would be spattered against the rocks he disappeared with a pop.

He reappeared in front of a building that vied for the top spot with Azkaban in his list of the most hated buildings of the world.

He staggered to the door, wincing as the wave of wards washed over him uncomfortably. He was surprised. His mother hadn't blocked him from the house, then. Maybe she had been impressed with him when he had helped kill the Potters.

He turned the knob and pushed the door open.

Darkness greeted him. From what little light fell inside the door, he could see a mass of cobwebs in front of him. Nobody had been here in years.

"Kreacher," he spat out. He could feel the elf in the house. It could only mean that the elf, and the property, had been left to him. His stretch of bad luck seemed to be still going strong.

There was a loud crack as the wretched elf appeared in front of him. The elf looked at him in surprise, which changed to slowly-building rage.

"So, the blood-traitor Master returns. The time it has spent in Azkaban seems to have been good for him. Kreacher is glad. Kreacher wonders how filthy Master has managed to wriggle his way out of Azkaban, though…" the elf began to mutter under its breath.

Sirius kicked out at the elf with a grunt, catching him on the side. His bare feet did no damage to him, however, and he might as well not have bothered. Kreacher looked as if he wanted to jump on Sirius and kill him, but instead stood ramrod straight before him, his tiny frame quivering in rage.

Before the elf could insult him again, Sirius ground out his orders, slowly and carefully, leaving no loophole he could think of, "Kreacher, you are not to speak to anyone about me until I tell you otherwise. You are not to contact anyone in any way, shape or form and relay information about me. You are forbidden to leave this house until I tell you otherwise…"

The elf opened his mouth to respond, his eyes spitting venom, but Sirius interrupted him firmly, "You are not to speak in my presence. You will stay away from me until I call you. Do you understand? Nod if you understood."

The elf nodded slowly, looking like the simple gesture would kill it.

"Good. Now, I want you to light a fire in the living room and find me some Floo powder."

The elf's eyes widened in glee- Sirius realized his mistake almost too late.

"Wait. Do not burn down the room," he growled, "Light a normal, yellow fire in the grate that cannot harm me or the house in any way."

The elf nodded mutely, looking as if it wanted to puke in disgust, put raised his hands and popped away.

"Devious bugger…" Sirius muttered.

Sirius, with his last remaining strength, struggled his way into the living room. A bright fire was already burning there.

He plopped down on a chair that looked as if it hadn't been used, or cleaned, in years. He ignored the filth- he was used to worse. The warmth of a fire washed over him, helping clear his head and lessening the intensity of the tremors that were shaking his tired body.

He waited for the elf to appear impatiently, staring into the fire.

Kreacher apparated next to him the next minute with a pop and mutely extended a half-full jar of Floo powder towards him. Sirius glanced at the jar suspiciously, but couldn't find anything wrong with it.

"Go to your cupboard, you filth," he snapped out, finally taking the jar.

The elf disappeared with a pop, giving him a look that should have killed him on the spot.

He threw a pinch of the powder into the crackling flames and muttered, "Lupin's Cottage,"

He could only hope his old, traitorous friend hadn't changed his residence.

He poked his head inside the fire tiredly, falling out of his chair to his knees with the effort. He was greeted to a sight of a threadbare room, with furniture that looked worn-out, but clean. It was clearly still in use.

His eyes flicked to the side. A man sat in a chair in the corner, his frame stiffened in shock. An open book lay forgotten in his lap. The man had hair that was flecked with grey, and had a face that was much lined, but appeared kind nonetheless.

He was staring at Sirius with a mingled expression of amazement, fury, betrayal, acceptance, determination and some more shock. His expression then morphed into a look of extreme loathing.

He whipped his wand out in a blindingly fast motion and pointed it at Sirius and screamed, "Avada Kedavra,"

Sirius sighed. The green light whizzed towards him and crashed through his forehead, straight into fireplace he was looking out of. A few logs snapped with the power of the curse, but there was no other visible damage.

"I hope that felt good," Sirius growled to the man.

Remus appeared to have calmed down. He slowly brought his wand arm down and said quietly, "It did. I wanted to do that for a long time. I hate to say it, but some part of me rejoices to see you here, Padfoot. But most of me wishes you dead. You better leave before I track you down and kill you."

"You were never one for dramatics, but I can see that has changed, _Moony_. You look like hell, by the way. Almost as bad as me, and that's saying something."

A grimace passed over Remus' face, but he hid the anguish he felt over being called that name well.

"What do you want, _Black_?" he spat out, injecting venom and hidden meaning into the word.

"Ouch, that was low, Moony. You really know how to hit where it hurts," Sirius said sarcastically.

Remus's lips twitched, despite himself.

Remus realized what he had been about to do and got up to his feet in a fury, as angry at Sirius as he was at himself, "What do you want, you fucking traitor? Isn't it enough that you had to destroy everyone's life? Have you come to gloat now? Or to kill me, perhaps?"

He didn't even bother about asking him how he had escaped from Azkaban.

Sirius glared at him, "I am not the fucking traitor, you fucking wolf- you are. I have rotted away in Azkaban for a decade, and I received not one fucking letter from you, not one fucking visit, not even one fucking curse before today. Did you care so little?"

"No," Sirius said decisively to Remus, who had been caught flatfooted with this line of questioning, before he could say anything, "Don't tell me, I don't want to hear it. I don't fucking care. You owe me a life-debt, _Lupin_, and I'm calling it in, now. You will help me recover and you won't breathe a word about me to anyone else. You can step through anytime,"

Sirius pulled his head out of the fire, relaxed the wards to let Lupin through and then lay down on the floor, completely spent. He knew Moony would do as he asked- he couldn't ignore the old magic.

Sirius closed his eyes and fell fast asleep; possibly unconscious.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2- Choices**

AN: Thank you, everyone, for your interest in the story! Thank you for the reviews, too, guys, they are highly appreciated... Yes, Remus is going to be on Sirius' side in this story. I know some of you won't be happy with this, but it's not going to be an evil! Sirius story (though he certainly has reason enough to go dark). It's going to be tongue-in-cheek and sometimes over the top, but not dark. I think. Graphic, yes, perhaps...

Sirius found himself in his old room, sleeping in his old bed. The wall was still the dull silver and green it had been before, the way his father had charmed it to be once in a fit of piqué. He half expected to hear his mother's screams echoing up at him the next minute, telling him to get up and come downstairs for his lessons.

He knew he was being watched.

He looked to his right and found Remus, who was sitting a chair in the corner. Remus' wand was trained on him, and he was looking wary.

"You're awake," Remus remarked, clearly in two minds about the fact.

"And it's great to see you too, Moony. Come here, give us a hug," Sirius said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

Sirius found was feeling better than he had felt in a very long time. His mind was clear and his breath no longer hitched in his chest. It no longer felt as if the next gust of wind would knock him over.

He threw his covers off him and was about to leap out of bed when he noticed he was stark naked. He quickly gathered them back to himself- he had to draw the line somewhere, after all, even if he had lost his sanity- and glared at the man in the corner, "If you wanted a peek at the goods, Lupin, you could have just asked," he said waspishly.

Remus glared back at him, "I still don't swing that way, you mutt, as you very well know."

"So you undressed me because…?" Sirius said, doing his best to sound skeptical, just to get a rise out of his ex best-friend.

"Even a dead rat wouldn't get into bed with you at the state you are in, you arrogant sod," Remus continued, ignoring his words.

The word "rat" set Sirius' teeth on edge. Sirius hadn't forgotten the rat bastard Pettigrew. He would get his comeuppance with the rest of them.

"I only undressed you because the clothes were too filthy and the stench was getting to me. You have slept for 24 hours straight, by the way. You will recover, in time, I suppose; if the Dementors don't get to you first, that is," Remus appeared to be debating with himself before he forced the next few words out, "You should eat something, you need to keep your strength up."

Sirius waved his hand at him dismissively, "Right, right."

Remus growled at him. Sirius ignored him and flopped back down on his bed. His good mood had vanished as quickly as it had arrived. He felt another wave of depression ready to assail him.

Remus' presence and the almost familiar banter had exacerbated the old scars and brought back memories of happier times that were out of his reach forever.

Remus, too, didn't appear interested in saying anything else and sat quietly, twirling his wand in his fingers. From his expression, he had a thousand things to say and a thousand different emotions to express, but appeared unable to communicate coherently at the moment.

"Padfoot, why did you do it?" Remus asked finally after several minutes of silence in a small, exhausted voice. His voice was not that of a grown man, but that of a small child who searched vainly for answers while his world was crashing down around him and his innocence was being snatched away by forces beyond his control.

Sirius turned his head towards Remus, his eyes hollow. Sirius knew he should be angry at him for believing the worst of him, but he found that he could not muster up the energy to hold a grudge. Remus had made a mistake, like everyone else- just like Sirius had.

"I didn't do it, Remus," he replied quietly.

Remus made a disbelieving noise in the back of his throat.

"I didn't do it, Remus." He repeated, his words ringing with finality.

Remus looked at him for a long moment, the disbelief changing slowly to doubt, then slowly to dawning comprehension and horror.

"You didn't do it?" Remus asked him slowly.

"Nope. It was Peter," he replied heavily.

Remus searched his eyes and face for signs of deceit. Not finding what he was looking for, he got up and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Sirius sighed and rubbed at his eyes tiredly.

* * *

"How, Padfoot? I'm not saying that I believe you, mind, but I must know… how?" Remus asked him after several hours had passed.

Sirius had treated himself to his first hot bath in a decade. The almost scalding water had done much to soothe his frayed nerves. He had found some of his old clothes that were clean, dry and comfortable. He had also found a single apple in the kitchen and the remnants of a sandwich, probably the remnants of Remus' dinner. He had promptly duplicated the food with magic and gorged on it until his stomach hurt.

Now that he was well rested, he had found it much easier to cast magic. He had been feeling reasonably content and optimistic, and was looking forward to a quiet night of just sitting before the fire and relaxing while he still could.

And then, of course, Remus had to show up and ruin it all with all his stupid questions.

He did deserve his answers, though, and Sirius wasn't disinclined to give them to him.

"I was never the secret keeper, Moony, Peter was…" Sirius said softly, absently twirling his glass of Firewhiskey in his hands.

Remus stared at him open mouthed, but didn't interrupt as Sirius continued his tale, "That rat bastard sold Lily and James out to the Dark Dipshit. He betrayed us all, Remus. I had to find him and make him pay for his betrayal. I had to kill him for what he had done- you understand, Moony?" Sirius said plaintively.

Remus just nodded slowly.

Sirius sighed and continued, "I handed Harry over to Hagrid- he would have been safe enough with him for a day or two, I knew- and then I went after Peter. He had recently apparated away from Godric's Hollow, and his trail was still fresh, as was his scent. It took me very little time to track him down, but it wasn't easy to catch the crafty little bugger. And so the chase went on longer than it should have. He was slippery, but I was relentless. When I finally cornered him, he shouted some crap about me betraying Lily and James and blew up half the street with a level 4 dark curse. He cut off his finger and escaped in his rat form down a sewer, while all I could do was stand helplessly and stare at him in shock."

"He framed me, Remus. I underestimated him, I always have, and for that I have paid in spades. I couldn't believe he was capable of such cleverness, really, couldn't believe he'd have the gall to blame it all on me, to think up such an elaborate plan at a moment's notice when it was all I could to hold myself together. He should have been quivering down on the ground at my feet, begging me for mercy, not coolly killing off a bunch of people in an effort to set me up. That's when it really hit me, you know… on that street, with bits and pieces of thirteen dead people around me. I had been too slow to save these people, just like I had been too slow to save Lily and James… I finally understood that James and Lily weren't coming back, ever. They were dead. And it was my fault, for telling them to trust the wrong guy."

Sirius closed his eyes and a single tear ran down his face, "I messed up, Remus."

"Sirius… I…" Remus began, and then paused, at a loss for words.

"Of course, I became hysterical after that. The Aurors came and took me away. Nobody bothered to give me a trial," Sirius continued bitterly, "It was straight to Azkaban for me. I knew there were Death Eaters in the Ministry, Remus, and I knew Crouch had always hated me, just as he had hated my family. They have always feared the Black family, as you know, and I bore that name too, even if it wasn't by choice. No, it wasn't surprising that I was thrown into Azkaban without a trail, really. What was surprising, however, was that nobody came to see me after that, to hear my version of what had transpired, to ask me how I could betray my best friends to a bloody fucking wanker like Voldemort."

"I tried," Remus said quietly, his eyes painfully sincere, "I was going to come and kill you, and then let them kill me. I had no reason left to live, after all… But they changed the rules after you were thrown inside, as soon as Voldemort fell. Nobody was allowed to contact or visit the prisoner's in the high security wing in Azkaban anymore, not unless they had the Minister's handwritten permission. And I had no chance in hell of getting that, of course, not with my condition."

Sirius stared at his friend, some of the hurt in his heart easing a little at his words, grim as they were, "I figured it had to be something like that. I'm sorry Remus, I'm sorry for everything. I didn't kill James and Lily, but I might as well have…" he took a deep breath, unable to stop the tears that fell from his eyes and repeated his words softly, "I might as well have…"

Remus didn't say anything, but was now looking at him with equal measures of pain, guilt and compassion in his eyes. He looked just like the old Remus Sirius remembered so fondly, the one who had been a part of his family, along with James, Lily and Harry.

"Do you believe me, Moony?" he finally asked Remus, unable to keep the quiver from his voice, prepared for rejection.

Remus rose from his chair in response and moved towards him. He put his arms around him and gave him a hug that squeezed all the air from his lungs and nearly broke his ribs.

"I believe you, Pad… Somehow, I believe you," his breath hitched, "And you have nothing to apologize for. I should be the one apologizing for not trying harder, for letting you down. I'm sorry Sirius, I'm more sorry than you know…"

Sirius let him hold him for a moment, but the hug just made him uncomfortable. He hadn't forgiven Remus completely- no, the wolf had much to answer for. Sirius roughly pulled away from the embrace and grabbed Remus by the shoulders.

Remus stared at him with tears in his eyes.

"But what about Harry, Moony?" Sirius asked him a dangerous voice, "I admit there was little you could do for me, but what about Harry? He is your family too, and yet I don't see you looking out for him. He almost died two times in his first year. I would have expected you to pull him out of Hogwarts the first time it happened, or, at the very least, kept a better eye on him."

"Harry? What are you talking about, Padfoot?" Remus asked him, looking lost.

Sirius closed his eyes and breathed evenly in an effort to control the terrible hot rage that had suddenly sprung up in him. It was all he could do to remain calm and not curse the man before him with every dark spell he could think of.

Sirius opened his eyes and glared at Remus, who recoiled as if he had been struck.

"Harry Potter… I'm sure you remember him? The only son of your dead best friend, who incidentally asked you to look out for him if anything were to happen to him or Lily? Does it ring any bells, Remus?" Sirius spat out, slamming the glass he was holding on the table in front of him hard.

Remus flinched, but seemed to find some anger of his own, "Of course I remember Harry, Sirius! But you seem to think I actually have any say in running his life. I'm a fucking Werewolf, or have you forgotten that?"

Sirius snorted and looked away, the anger leaving him as easily as it had come.

Remus sighed and rubbed at his temple. He got up and sat in his chair again. After a moment's silence, he began speaking in his usual, quiet tone, "I haven't talked to him or met him for close to eleven years, Padfoot. Before you get angry, there are reasons for that."

Sirius frowned darkly, "Enlighten me, then."

Remus took a deep breath, "After Voldemort died, everybody wanted to forget the war had ever happened and move on with their lives. They tightened existing laws and passed a bunch of legislation to prevent anything like that from happening again. The Death Eaters in Azkaban became taboo –nobody mentioned them- and everybody was leery of associating with anything remotely dark. Of course, seeing as I'm as "dark" as they come, I was hit particularly hard by the new law. They made it nearly impossible for me to get a decent job. I didn't care though; I left the Wizarding world behind and began living in the Muggle world. I may still use my old house, but I've forsaken the magical world entirely."

"You left behind Harry, you…," Sirius began angrily, but was interrupted by Remus.

"And what do you suggest I should have done, Sirius?" Remus snapped, "I had horrible mental scars of my own that I've carried with me for the past decade, and I'm still not rid of them all. I was in no state to look after a year old toddler, or even associate with him in any way. It was all I could do not to off myself this past decade, you self righteous ass. Regardless, his guardian's wouldn't have stood for it anyway, even if I had asked to meet him."

Sirius frowned and thought about what Remus had said. He found that he couldn't blame his old friend, and much of the resentment he felt towards him was washed away.

Sirius nodded slowly, "I'm sorry Moony, you're right. This stint in Azkaban has messed with my mind. My emotions are all over the place…"

Remus smiled at him wanly, unsurprised at this revelation, "It's alright, Padfoot."

"His guardians wouldn't have let you meet him, you said. Who are they?" Sirius asked him after a moment's pause.

Remus pursed his lips, "Vernon and Petunia Dursley,"

"Lily's sister?" Sirius asked him, struggling to remember the woman. He could recall a thin woman with an irritating voice who had shouted at him a lot at the wedding.

"Yes, she and her husband took Harry in. They are afraid of magic, you see- they're Muggles, and intolerant of magic in general."

"They're afraid of magic? So why, in Merlin's name, did they place Harry there? He's as magical as they come!"

"Something to do with the blood protection they extend Harry. Nobody with intent to harm him can get to him as long as he's with his aunt and cousin, and their house is protected too. Dumbledore thought it the best place for him," Remus said.

"Dumbledore… Why am I not surprised he had something to do with it? Interfering old wanker," he muttered, ignoring the scandalized expression on Remus' face, who had always worshipped the ground the old man walked on, "Tell me, Remus; is Harry happy there?"

Remus frowned, "I don't know. He's just a kid, Padfoot; I doubt he's too unhappy. I go visit him a few times every year. I don't meet him, you understand, just look at him from afar, from under a disillusionment charm. I usually find him in the park, sitting on the swings, or working in the garden of his house. He's shorter and thinner than I'd like, but he appears healthy enough otherwise. I suppose he could be happier. No, don't scowl, Padfoot, I'm with Dumbledore on this one- better a live Harry who's a little unhappy than a dead one."

"I suppose you're right," Sirius muttered grudgingly.

Remus nodded, continued in a low voice, staring into the fire, his eyes distant, "You know as well as I do that there are many people out there who would hurt him, kill him or, worse, kidnap him and use him for their own dark purposes. There are no suitable guardians to be found in the magical world that I can think of for him. At that time, there weren't many who were powerful enough to protect him and willing to drop every other responsibility they had to look after him, despite the money and fame his name would bring them. Also, nobody was willing to fight Dumbledore when he insisted Harry be placed with his Muggle relatives. Truthfully, given James' proclivity towards being arrogant, I, for one, am happy he's in the Muggle world, away from the cloying attention of the Wizarding public."

"Well, if there was no suitable guardian, I'll just have to remedy that then," Sirius said in a determined voice, "He has me now. Though I daresay he might want to stay with his relatives after all this time…," he trailed off uncertainly. But then he remembered his Godson had almost died twice- clearly his relatives weren't capable of looking after him.

He told Remus the conversation he had overheard in Azkaban. Remus appeared suitably concerned at what had happened to Harry, though he didn't appear as outraged at Dumbledore's role in it as Sirius was.

"And this is why you broke out? To protect Harry from Dumbledore?" he asked hesitantly.

"To protect him from the Bloody-Wanker-Who-Should-Die-and-Stay-Dead," Sirius snapped, "And Dumbledore isn't exactly doing his utmost to protect Harry either, is he?"

"Perhaps you're right," Remus admitted, "But Sirius, I hate to say this, but you're an escapee from Azkaban…"

There was a long moment's silence

"And your point is…?" Sirius prompted him, just to be annoying.

Remus sighed, "Don't be stupid, Padfoot," He continued patiently, "Look, I'm not sure how you managed to escape, and why the Ministry isn't looking for you, but I don't think you can just waltz in and steal Harry from his relatives and become his guardian."

"The Ministry isn't looking for me, Moony, because I've put a guard at Azkaban under the Imperius," He ignored Lupin's shocked splutter, "He's covering for me, though they'll discover that I've escaped anytime now I suppose. I should have had him put a glamor on his friend, who's occupying my cell, to make him look like me, now that I think of it. Oh well, can't think of everything…"

"You put someone under the Imperius? Padfoot, are you insane?" Remus asked him in a shocked whisper.

"Yes, Moony, I am insane- I'm glad we've cleared that up," Sirius said easily, nodding.

Remus didn't know how to respond to that, so instead he shut up and stared at Sirius as if he had grown two heads.

Sirius closed his eyes, and followed the magical thread in his mind that led to the Auror that he had cursed. He opened his eyes after a minute, "Yes, they should figure it out anytime now."

"Padfoot, even if somehow you manage to get away with this, which is looking exceedingly unlikely, now that you've used the Imperius- on an Auror, of all people. I might add- but how're you going to get custody of Harry?"

"Simple, Moony," Sirius said lazily, sipping at his Firewhiskey, enjoying the warm feel of the liquid as it slipped down his throat and settled in his belly, "I'm going to become the most powerful man in the world, Wizarding or Muggle. Nobody will be able to stop me from taking custody of Harry."

* * *

Remus looked at his friend as if he had lost his marbles, which was, now that he thought about it, essentially true.

"You want to be the Minister of Magic?" Remus hazarded a guess, just to humor his maniacal friend.

Sirius smiled an open, happy smile, which raised all the hairs on Remus's rapidly thinning pate and made want to run screaming for the hills while he still could.

"No, Moony, of course not! That would be stupid… I want to be the next Dark Lord."

Remus' jaw dropped to the floor. He stared at his friend for a full minute, not sure if he had heard him correctly, "You want to become the next Dark Lord? Are you serious?" he repeated weakly.

* * *

"Yes, I am Sirius," Sirius nodded, abusing the much-abused pun again, "And I want to be the Headmaster of Hogwarts, too, come to think of it," Sirius informed his friend casually.

The crackle of the flames in the fireplace was the only sound to be heard for the next full minute.

"Moony, are you alright?" Sirius said with a straight face, though he was laughing evilly on the inside, "Do you need a shot of Firewhiskey, or a Calming Draught perhaps?

"Err…" Remus closed his gaping mouth, and the opened it again, looking lost. He eyes roamed the room frantically, avoiding Sirius' own like the very plague, and then stopped when they fell on the bottle of Firewhiskey. Remus snagged the bottle and began gulping the amber liquid as if he was a drowning man in desperate need of air.

Sirius began to hum a happy little tune under his breath.

Remus finally stopped drinking and put the bottle down with unsteady hands.

He finally looked at Sirius, his eyes full of dread, "Don't say it. No, don't say it. Shut up, Padfoot, I'm warning you!"

Sirius smiled innocently, "Say what Moony? Are you sure you're okay?"

Remus had the look of a man staring at his own grave, "I'm not doing it Padfoot, no. Don't even think about asking me..."

"Moony, perhaps you've had too much to drink…"

"Damn you, Padfoot, damn you! Just leave me alone!"

"Moony, I've been thinking…"

"Damn it Padfoot! I said no!"

"Okay, so I'm you're in, then. Great!"

"You can't bloody make me help you, Padfoot!"

"Of course I can't, Moony…"

Remus shot up and literally ran out of the room.

A familiar low, evil laugh that made him want to scream in panic and terror followed him all the way up the stairs and to the room he had taken over. It kept ringing in his ears even after he buried his face in the bed and wrapped pillows around his head.

* * *

"Moony," Sirius strode into the landing and called to his friend upstairs.

"Who is that?!" Sirius nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard his dead mother's voice, and couldn't stop himself from letting out a small "eep" of terror.

His mother then screamed an earsplitting scream that nearly stilled his beating heart and curdled his blood.

"YOU! TRAITOR! SCUM! HOW DARE YOU SHOW YOUR FACE HERE AGAIN! HOW DARE YOU BESMIRCH MY HOUSE WITH YOUR PRESENCE!"

"What the f…" Sirius looked around and spotted the ugliest painting he had ever seen in his life, with the ugliest women he had ever seen in it; a woman he knew too well for his liking. It was stuck to the wall, but it hadn't been there before, nor had he seen it before this.

There was the sound of running footsteps upstairs.

"SIRIUS, I heard you the first time, stop that bloody racket!"

Sirius aimed a spell at the portrait, which merely bounced off and came back at him. He batted it aside and swore under his breath. Tugging at the portrait with all his strength had no effect either.

"KREACHER," Sirius roared, ignoring Remus, who was staring down from the stairs openmouthed, alternating glances between him and the portrait.

Kreacher appeared with a pop. He had a ghastly, contented smile on his face, which didn't budge an inch even after he dodged the kick Sirius sent his way.

"Kreacher, you bloodsucking fiend, did you put this fucking portrait here?" Sirius asked him with gritted teeth.

Kreacher didn't reply, merely smiled wider.

"Kreacher, I asked you a question, you dirty little shite!"

There was still no response. His mother, however, was still screaming her head off and getting louder by the minute.

"SHUT UP, YOU HAG!" Sirius roared at his mother. His mother, far from being cowed, began screaming expletives at him that he hadn't ever heard in his life, even after spending a decade in Azkaban amongst the hardened thugs of the Wizarding world.

Sirius threw his arms up in the air and turned to Kreacher.

"You are allowed to speak in my presence for the next ten minutes," he tried.

"Filthy Master doesn't look happy, no he doesn't. Perhaps Master doesn't like his Mother telling him what a disappointment he has been to his nice Mother. Perhaps Blood-Traitor Master…"

"Shut up, Kreacher," Sirius told him, scowling, "I know it was you who did it, and you will pay for it, you filthy mongrel. I want you to remove the portrait and put it back where it came from."

"Kreacher cannot do as Master says, no; Kreacher's Mistress will not let him."

Remus, meanwhile, had gotten a handle on the situation. He thundered down the stairs, conjured a small pair of curtain panels and immediately charmed them to stick to wall over the portrait, so that the curtains covered it. The loud screaming, worse than the wailing of banshee, mercifully abated.

"Thank you, Remus," Sirius said loudly.

The curtain panels parted and his mother started screaming again. Remus closed them shut with a grunt of effort, and glared at Sirius. He put a shushing gesture and dragged Sirius out of the hallway into the living room.

"What was all that about?" Remus asked him

"It's that rat, Kreacher, trying to make my life hell again," Sirius growled.

"I see," said Remus, rolling his eyes, "Well, the Deafening Charm on the curtains should silence her up for the time being at least. Also, you called me, Padfoot?"

"Yeah, I did. Pack your bags mate- the Ministry knows I'm gone. It won't be long before they come calling, and the wards aren't strong enough to repel them."

Remus took a deep breath, "You want me to come with you?"

Sirius sighed and rubbed his temple. He looked his friend in the eye and said seriously, "You don't have to, Moony. Your debt to me, as far as I'm concerned, has been paid. You can pretend you never saw me and continue living your life. From what I've seen, though, it's not much of a life. You clearly have no girlfriend, you wanker, and you were reading "Potion's Quarterly" in front of a fire, alone, on a Saturday night. I mean who does that? But hey, if it makes you happy…"

Remus growled at him, "I'll thank you not to insult my life, you mangy mutt. It's a damn sight better than yours. Who spent the last 10 years in Azkaban, eating prison food, and now has the Ministry on his tail- and probably half the Dementors in England after his soul?"

"Touché, wolf, touché…"

"And cut the crap, Sirius, I'm coming with you, as you very well know."

"Then get packing!" Sirius said with a grin, flashing perfect white teeth that had, against all the odds, survived his stint in Azkaban intact.

Remus rolled his eyes and turned around. He stopped at the door and remarked casually over his shoulder, "Oh, and Padfoot?"

"What?"

"I never owed you a life debt. There was no compunction on me not to harm you… I shot several jinxes at you when you were asleep, to pass the time and also to keep myself from killing you, of course. Looks like you didn't save my life in 7th year after all, when you stopped Snivellus from throwing me out of the window."

He walked out, radiating smug satisfaction and leaving a gaping Sirius Black in his wake.

* * *

Sirius stood in front of the door to his father's study, his hand clenched on the doorknob tightly.

Before, he would sooner have killed himself than put a foot inside this room voluntarily, and now he was eager to do so. It just went to show how much he, and his world around him, had changed.

He turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.

The large room was just as he remembered it, though it was now covered in a thick sheet of dust. It even smelled the same, underneath the new smell of the dust and decay. His father's desk lay against the corner, beside the small bookcase he remembered too well. The panes of the small, single window in the room were covered with grime and blocked any light from coming inside, which had prompted mold to grow on the wooden paneling, and lent it a musty, decrepit aura.

And the whole room still reeked of the dark arts. Oh yes, it was just as he remembered it.

What he didn't remember, however, was the whole battalion of Doxies that appeared out of nowhere when he stepped on the rapidly disintegrating carpet.

He flailed his arms wildly as they began biting at his face and neck, buzzing angrily.

"Aaargh, GET OFF!" he roared and brandishing his wand. He gathered his magic and forced it down the wand, waving his wand in a side to side motion, "_Ignis Straverunt_"

A huge spurt of flame spread from his wand and swallowed the Doxies whole. In less then two seconds, half the Doxies that had attacked him had been reduced to ash, while the rest had vanished with angry cries.

There was no damage to the room, however, despite the intensity of the flames he had conjured- all the books, his father's desk and other small items in the room appeared intact. His father's wards were still standing, apparently. Summoning spells wouldn't work then, he thought.

"KREACHER," Sirius roared.

The elf appeared with a crack, scowling. The scowl soon changed to a creepy smile as his eyes roved over his Master's rumpled appearance.

"Have you been breeding Doxies in my father's study, you little hellion?" Sirius asked him, wincing and rubbing at the numerous wounds on his neck, "Yeah, yeah, you can speak in my presence."

Kreacher began muttering under his breath, "Kreacher is happy his pet Doxies have bitten filthy Master, oh yes he is. Kreacher hopes Master is in great agony..."

Sirius rolled his eyes and interrupted his spiel, "Yes, yes you want me dead, I get it- the feeling is mutual, I assure you. Right, Kreacher, I want you to get me all the books in father's study, intact. Put them in my trunk, without harming it or anything inside"

Kreacher began muttering under his breath again, peering up at Sirius, eyes gleaming, "Kreacher can't find anything he can exploit in Master's instructions, no, but Kreacher wonder's why Master wants his father's books on the dark arts, oh yes he does…"

"That's none of your business, you overgrown rat. Now go get them."

Sirius stood back, prepared to enjoy the show. The remaining Doxies would make short work of Kreacher.

The elf turned and, instead of walking to the books, snapped his fingers. He floated off the floor until he was hovering a foot in the air. He glided in a straight line towards the bookcase, his feet never touching the carpet, looking like a Dark creature from a horror story. He gathered the books in a floating pile beside him, and then vanished with a crack.

"Creepy little bugger…" Sirius muttered, scratching at his head.

* * *

"Where are we going, Padfoot?" Remus asked him, leaning against his battered trunk. He was standing beside his friend on the porch of 13, Grimmauld Place. It was early morning and was feeling tired. His sleep had been punctuated with nightmares and he hadn't slept much.

He had been deliriously happy to learn that his friend was innocent, but Sirius was beginning to freak him out really. He had his face buried in a thick, musty tome called "The Black Arts" by Sirius Black, who appeared to be his namesake, and was completely engrossed by whatever it was that had been written there.

"Padfoot?" Remus asked him again.

Sirius lowered the tome slowly and gave him a reassuring smile, which didn't do anything to quieten Remus' rising nervousness.

Sirius had changed so much in Azkaban- his hair now reached his shoulders and bunched out strangely. His face was gaunt, tired and his frame too thin, too weak. His steel grey eyes appeared hollow and dead, but if you a looked closely there was a great fire burning within. His friend looked like a man possessed, and Remus barely recognized him anymore.

Remus's insides twisted with guilt and sadness. He was responsible, in part, for his friend's suffering, for the way he had changed. Even if Padfoot had forgiven him, he hadn't forgiven himself, not truly. He would do all he could to help him now, it was his duty, even if it killed him.

And he couldn't deny that he was looking forward to helping Sirius with his insane goal. The Wizarding world desperately needed a wake-up call, and if anyone could pull it off, it was Sirius. Sirius could be scarily intelligent when the mood took him.

Remus knew he was an intelligent man, but he knew it was mostly a bookish intelligence. Sirius, however, had always been a prodigy in the truest sense of the term, a genius. He had kept up with James and Remus without even trying through all seven years of their schooling, and he had left them far behind the few times anything had caught his interest. Sirius had been too lazy, too rich, too handsome and (Remus hated to think it) too arrogant to make anything of himself before, however- not that he had needed to, of course. He had possessed no ambition in his life- but that had clearly changed now.

"Where are we going?" Remus repeated impatiently, bringing his mind forcefully to the present.

Sirius grinned at him, "My my, a trifle impatient aren't we?"

"Padfoot…" Remus began warningly.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Remmy. We're going to go perform a Blood Ritual, of course."

Remus stood still and gaped at him.

"Moony? Are you okay? Moony? Hello?" Sirius asked him, waving a hand in front of his face, and then muttered under his breath when he didn't respond, "Looks like I finally broke him…"


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: **Thank you guys for the reviews! I won't be able to reply to individual reviews, but I really appreciate them nonetheless. If someone has concerns about this story, or where it's headed, or any questions that you really, desperately need answered, you're welcome to pm me and I'll reply asap. Also, Remus is going to be what he was to Harry in Canon- a distant, friendly uncle figure, at least for now. Sirius will be much closer to Harry. This is going to be as canon compliant as I can make it, though several characters, out of necessity, will be OOC. I don't think J.K. Rowling intended Remus to come across as a traitor, even if he did what he did. Sirius, Remus and Peter appeared to be afterthoughts that she used to further her plot and get Voldemort resurrected. I don't mean to criticize her (she's freaking amazing), but she wrote 7 books about Harry Potter over a number of years, and it's really freaking hard to develop an entire universe and keep the plot straight at the same time. So a loose plot can and should be overlooked. And they were books for children, who don't care about such trivial things as a plot. Right, sorry about that.

I'm hoping to write one chapter every 7-10 days, so please expect future updates to be sporadic. Real life...

Thank you Lupinesence (x2), Slytherin 66, The Good Child, nemosangel, alyxanna (x2), MyHarryPotterAddiction, Guest, Accalia Silvermoon, Guest and Justme.

I'm also looking for a beta for this fic- which will probably be novel length- so please contact me if anyone is interested, thanks.

**Chapter 3: Rise of the Dark Lord**

"Do you remember everything?" Sirius asked him, closing the lid of his trunk and standing up, "Perhaps you should make a list."

"I remember, Sirius," Remus assured him. "And I have a list of the potion ingredients here, so it shouldn't be a problem. But note that I'm doing this under protest."

"Am I going to have to guilt trip you again, Moony?" Sirius scowled.

"No, you idiot, I said I'll do it, didn't I?! But I don't have to like it, and I don't."

"Okay, whatever. Just don't get caught," Sirius warned him.

"I won't. And what are you planning to do anyway, while I put my ass on the line?" Remus asked him, frowning.

Sirius smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, "Never you mind, you'll know soon enough, I suppose- if I survive, that is. I'll see you later… maybe."

He grabbed his trunk and vanished with a soft pop.

Remus cursed in frustration, staring at the empty air where his friend had been standing a moment before.

Sirius had been holding his cards very close to his chest since his return. He hadn't told Remus more than the bare essentials of his plan. Remus couldn't really blame Sirius for his attitude, though- he would have trust issues too if the entire world betrayed him and he was locked up in Azkaban for a decade.

Remus was in two minds about the whole thing; he wasn't sure whether he should be happy to have his friend back, admittedly with a few screws loose, or annoyed at being treated as nothing more than a lackey.

Remus had also found out, much to his displeasure, that he hadn't changed much since his Hogwarts days. He was still just as easily cajoled into following Sirius and helping him with whatever harebrained scheme that he'd cooked up as before.

Remus looked over the piece of parchment in his hand worriedly, cringing ever so slightly each time he encountered an ingredient that was on the Ministry's Schedule I Controlled Substances list. Possession of even one of the items, in any quantity, would get him a lifetime sentence in Azkaban if he was caught, he knew. Possession of more than one would get him Kissed by a big, horny Dementor.

Remus wasn't looking forward to visiting Knockturn Alley- it always gave him the creeps. Luckily for him, he would, as a werewolf, fit right in with the assortment of banshees, thieves, murderers, hags, drunks, ex-Death Eaters and various other layabouts that frequented the place.

"I really hope you know what you're doing, Padfoot," he muttered fervently. He, too, grabbed his trunk and disappeared with a pop.

* * *

Sirius appeared in the middle of a crowded street in Greenwich, London. There were quite a few people up and about, even at 8 am. He drew his long, thin coat closed around him in an effort to hide his too-thin frame and the strange robes he wore underneath. It was disorienting for Sirius to have himself thrust in a crowd of people again, after so many years of being alone and starved for human company.

He didn't mind the feeling of disorientation, though – it was overshadowed by the joy he felt at being free and in control of his destiny once again.

He silently cast a Notice-Me-Not charm on himself, as he was, despite his efforts to blend in, attracting curious, wary and pitying glances from most of the Muggles.

He stood quietly and looked around, trying to gain his bearings. He hadn't been here for a long time, and Greenwich, like the rest of London, had changed greatly. The Greenwich Market, however, was still there, its roof peeking out from behind some buildings, just visible from where he was standing. He tapped his trunk, lightening it and shrinking it until it was a small square, which he then slipped into his pocket.

Sirius began making his way towards the Market. He couldn't risk going to Diagon Alley, even with glamour charms- many of the shops in employed wards that would strip away any glamours. Some of the wards extended onto the street of the Alley itself, and he was sure the Apparition Point and the Leaky Cauldron had been warded by now. He also wouldn't be surprised if the Alley was crawling with Aurors, all of them looking for him.

Luckily for him, all he needed was a pair of owls, and he could use the half-magical, half-muggle shop in Greenwich Market for that.

* * *

The shock of long-distance apparition brought Sirius to his knees. He knelt on the thick grass and coughed weakly once, spitting out blood. His vision darkened and he had to close his eyes and take several deep breaths before he was sure he wouldn't faint.

He was completely exhausted, spent and raging on the inside. He was weak -too weak.

He'd apparated to Cairo, Egypt once during his 6th year to win a bet, a week after they had been taught how to Apparate by the Ministry. It wasn't something most wizards could do, but he'd pulled it off without splinching himself. He'd had a photo of him taken- being chased by a dozen local camels- to prove it and then he'd apparated back within the hour, much to everyone's disbelief. James had been forced to wear a badge that flashed alternatively between "I love Slytherins" and "Snivellus, Will you Marry Me?" for a whole month after he'd lost that particular bet.

And now he'd almost killed himself after Apparating to nearby Greece.

Irreparable damage had been done to him in Azkaban, he knew. He was recovering slowly, but it would take him years to regain his strength. And even then he'd be a shadow of his former self.

He'd be damned if he let that stop him, though.

When he had calmed sufficiently to become truly aware of his surroundings, his first thought was that he was in paradise. Soft emerald green grass, swaying gently in the morning breeze, stretched out as far as the eye could see, behind him and to his sides. Several fruit bearing trees were planted in orderly rows to his right, standing tall and proud, their leaves glinting a burnished gold in the light of the sun. The land in front of him dipped gently, the grass becoming sparser and the soil changing until it had turned to a fine, golden sand, which formed a long, narrow stretch of beach. The azure waters of the Mediterranean see lapped gently against the edge of the beach in the distance.

A small cottage stood before him, made of delicate looking wood and glass. It appeared welcoming and open, and fit right in into the beautiful landscape. He began walking towards it unsteadily.

The smell of brine and seawater grew stronger as he drew near the house. He could hear seagulls in the distance, and the sound of the birds and the waves was soothing. He felt calmer than he had all morning.

He paused when he reached the door and turned away, knowing by some instinct no one was inside. He began skirting around the house instead. Without the house obstructing his view, he caught sight of the two people he'd traveled all this distance for.

They were sitting on the beach, just holding each other and staring out at the water. The woman had long, fine black hair that she wore loose. It streamed behind her in the gentle breeze attractively. The man had close cropped, blonde hair, which the woman was currently running her hand through. They both looked very comfortable with each other, and intimate.

Sirius felt guilty for intruding on what was clearly a very private moment.

They seemed to sense his presence, but neither of them turned or made any effort to acknowledge him as he drew near. Sirius came to a stop beside them, feeling awkward and wondering if he should introduce himself.

"Your need must be great," the woman said softly, turning her head to look up at him.

She was one of the most beautiful women Sirius had ever seen- and Sirius had seen a lot of beautiful women. She had pale, spotless ivory skin; strong, graceful cheekbones; and a soft, lithe figure, displayed to perfection by the Muggle bathing suit she wore. She looked young, no more than twenty, which made her eyes stand out in startling contrast to the rest of her. They were ancient, wise and knowing. They seemed to strip away his defenses until they were peering at his very soul. They, unfortunately, also quashed all the inappropriate thoughts Sirius had been entertaining about her until then like so many measly, inconsequential bugs.

Sirius fidgeted uncomfortably, unable to maintain eye contact with her, "Why do you say that, mam?"

It was the man who responded, whose eyes were as startling and ancient as his wife's, "Because the wards would have killed you otherwise, child. Most people know better than to Apparate here."

Sirius didn't know what to say, so he settled on, "Oh, okay."

The woman smiled at him, "And how did you find us here, young man? Out location is supposed to be a closely guarded secret."

"Err..," Sirius began, wondering if he should lie. A second glance at those ancient eyes convinced him it would be a very bad idea, so he settled on saying, "An Auror …acquaintance who works in the British Ministry relayed that information to me."

"I see," the woman said serenely, looking for all the world like a female version of Dumbledore, except a thousand times more attractive and far less creepy, "You're not telling us everything, but I suppose your secrets are yours to keep, and we hardly know each other. Perhaps you'd care to share your name, though?"

Sirius hesitated, "I'm Sirius Black, mam."

"The infamous Sirius Black, who is currently supposed to be in Azkaban for the slaughter of thirteen muggles and one wizard? Purported to be Voldemort's right hand man and most feared death eater in his ranks? That Sirius Black?" the man asked him casually, looking unbothered that he was potentially talking to an insane mass-murderer and perhaps the commander-in-chief of the British Dark Lord's minions.

"Err… yes sir," Sirius said, flushing, half-proud and wondering when all these rumors about him had sprung up all.

"Well, then Sirius Black, you clearly know who we are, since you've sought us out," the woman said, looking wickedly amused at his discomfort, "What can we do for you?"

Sirius took a deep breath and crossed his fingers, "I want to learn how to make a Philosopher's Stone, mam. I was hoping you could help me."

Perenelle Flamel raised one delicate eyebrow at him, even more amused than before, "Do you know what you ask of us, child?"

Sirius shuffled his feet and fidgeted some more, "Err…I… err… no, not really mam."

"Of course not- they never do," Nicholas said with a roll of his eyes.

"Tell me, Sirius- why should we tell _you_ how to make a Philosopher's stone and not turn you away like the countless others before you," Perenelle inquired.

"I… err…err… umm… want one, pretty please?" Sirius tried, crossing his fingers even more tightly this time.

The couple exchanged glances and burst out laughing. Sirius smiled, inordinately pleased with himself.

"There's one we haven't heard before," Perenelle remarked, giggling like an infatuated schoolgirl.

"Indeed. I thought he'd give us a spiel about how he'd use it for the benefit of mankind, like that bloke in France two centuries ago, remember?" her husband asked her, smiling.

"How could I forget? I laughed so hard that day… he really thought we were gullible sods, didn't he?" Perenelle said, her eyes distant, smiling fondly. "Personally, I thought he'd say something about using the gold to buy food for all the hungry children in Africa and India."

"Or using it for ridding mankind of diseases," her husband reminded her.

"Ooh, haven't heard that one in a long time," Perenelle said, reminiscing fondly.

Sirius personally couldn't see what was funny about feeding a bunch of hungry children. Malnourishment was nothing to be laughed at. He could relate, after all- he had eaten nasty prison food for a whole decade.

Perenelle seemed to sense his turmoil, and smiled kindly, "It wouldn't take long, Sirius, for gold to devalue and become no more than a hunk of useless metal. You'll be able to feed them for a month and then you'd have the same problem again. Also-"

"-what most people don't know," her husband continued, finishing her thought in a creepy way, as if it was second nature to him, "is that it's impossible for more than one Philosopher's stone to exist in the world at one time, and one stone produces barely enough Elixir for two people. The Powers-That-Be, Merlin, the Universe, God, Magic or whatever, or whoever, probably doesn't want the world destroyed by making us all immortal. We'd fight over everything-"

Perenelle shuddered, "-and it'd be so crowded, can you imagine? It's too crowded already. We had to install special Tourist-repelling wards last year to prevent drunk, naked Muggles from stealing our beach. They were somehow able to blunder through the unease caused by our normal Muggle-Repelling wards."

Sirius wilted after he'd absorbed everything, though he perked up a little when he thought about naked Muggles. Perhaps he'd go visit one of these beaches before leaving Greece and returning to England, "Damn, there goes that. Oh well, so I should just go then, I suppose. Sorry for wasting your time…"

"Wait, child. What do you plan to do with the stone?" Perenelle asked him, placing a hand on his arm and stopping him from leaving.

"Well, I was planning to take over Wizarding Britain-" Sirius hedged.

"I see…," Perenelle said calmly. "Is there something you're leaving out, by chance?" She inquired. She wasn't fazed in the least by his words. She'd heard crazier things in her time- like Albus Dumbledore preferred the company of women over men, for example.

Sirius gulped, "I also wanted to be the next Dark Lord…"

Perenelle looked at her husband and they burst out laughing again.

"But you can't help me," Sirius said, trying to make himself heard over their laughter, "You obviously need your stone, and, as you said, two stones can't exist in the world at the same time, so…"

"Well, Sirius," Perenelle began, wiping the tears from her eyes and calming herself with a visible effort, "As luck would have it, our stone is destroyed."

"Albus convinced us to do it-" her husband supplied, before he was interrupted by Sirius.

"Albus again? That interfering old wanker… he does get around, doesn't he?" Sirius muttered, then winced, "Sorry, you were saying, sir?"

Nicholas smirked at him- he felt like insulting his friend once in a while too, "Because Voldemort was after it again."

Perenelle frowned, "We couldn't risk him getting his grubby paws on it – he's tried before, you know, and almost succeeded once. So we thought it better-"

"- that it be destroyed," Nicholas finished.

"We've protected it for centuries, you understand?" Perenelle said seriously to Sirius, "Several Dark Lords, and an assortment of men, women and even children, have tried to get their hands on it in the past."

"We're not fighters, not really, we're scientists- but we can hold our own in a duel," Nicholas informed him, "We know obscure and powerful spells, after all. That has been enough in the past-"

"-but the current Dark Lord is too strong for us," Perenelle sighed. "And we're tired, Sirius, we're tired of living and fighting. We've lived long enough, we've done enough, laughed enough, seen enough- and now we want to move on. Our time has come," she smiled at him, not looking sad about it at all.

"In fact, you caught us on our final day-"

"Just when we were about to die," Perenelle said, "Or leave, if you prefer, if the whole dying business makes you uncomfortable."

Sirius felt even worse now. He, a complete stranger, was stealing away the final moments of their life, when they no doubt wanted to just be together, alone. And have sex or something.

"No, don't be guilty, Sirius dear," the woman said gently. Sirius, for the first time, felt the presence of her mind in his own. She had walked through his extremely powerful shields as if they weren't even there, without him even being aware of it. Had she been in there since the start of their conversation? "We are glad you came, aren't we, Nick?"

"We are, Sirius," the man assured him, "we haven't laughed like that in a long time."

"Perhaps it's fate that you've come here, Sirius," Perenelle said softly. She got to her feet and took his hands in her own. She was short and barely came up to his chest, but that wasn't surprising; she had been born centuries before, at a time when everyone everywhere was short, cute and petite. Her hands in his were warm and soft. Sirius was forcefully reminded of the mother he'd never had, and tried with all his might not to think about all the women he'd had, several times, in various ways and in various extreme positions.

"Sirius, you have suffered much," Perenelle said gently, ignoring his dirty thoughts with the ease of long, long, long practice, "You have been through much that would have broken lesser men. There is great darkness in you, I can sense it, but it's not in control of you, and it never will be. Your heart remains strong, Sirius, as does your soul, "

Sirius was forcefully reminded about the Muggle movie- Star Wars- that Lily had taken him to see. He'd loved that movie- maybe he could watch it again, now that he was free. He suddenly felt depressed again. Merlin he missed Lily and James, he missed them so much.

Perenelle squeezed his hands gently and Sirius fidgeted. He was unused to human contact, and he was unreasonably pleased that someone was holding his hands after so long, but it still made him very uncomfortable.

Perenelle dropped his hands, she could sense his discomfort, and instead stroked his weathered cheek softly with her fingers, "I have seen what you wish to do, child. I cannot fault you for it- who can say what I'd have done in your place?"

Sirius just nodded mutely.

"I know you don't put much faith in prophesy, Sirius," she continued, "but prophecies are real, and horrible things happen to those who seek to interfere with them. Prophesies are interpreted in the spirit in which they are made- logic has no say in their interpretation, or their working."

Sirius scowled mutinously, but she continued before he could say anything, "But I also sense your will, Sirius, and it is stronger than any I have known before. Even prophecy may bend before it."

She then glanced at her husband, who nodded at her, "Your need is indeed great, and so we will help you, child."

"You will teach me how to make a Philosopher's Stone?" Sirius asked them incredulously, ignoring all the tripe about prophecy and his will.

Perenelle smiled, "We have a couple of hours to spare."

"And we'd also like to give you a few lessons on the mind-arts, if you're willing. Your shields are very strong, but there are several aspects of Occlumency that you've failed to grasp. It's like you've never had formal instruction. We'd like to remedy that,-," Nicholas remarked.

Tears welled in Sirius' eyes. He hugged the strange woman in front of him tightly, feeling a storm of emotion, ignoring her half-strangled gasp when he pulled her close. "Thank you, thank you so very much…," he sobbed.

"- as long as you don't try to seduce my wife away from me," Nicholas snapped, scowling darkly at the young upstart before him, who was hugging his wife as if his life depended on it and thinking dirty thoughts at the same time.

* * *

Bartemius Crouch strode through the Ministry Atrium, cutting a foreboding figure in his impeccably pressed, plum-colored robes. The Ministry was in uproar around him. Harried witches and wizards were running to and fro, while several small groups were gathered beside the Fountain of Magical Brethren and whispering excitedly amongst themselves. He caught several people casting fearful, and in some cases, excited glances at each other. Paper planes were flying around in hordes and the Floo stations behind him were all bursting with activity.

He nodded curtly at everyone who greeted him, but didn't stop to talk to anyone. He simply didn't have the time- and he'd know soon enough what had occurred to cause this pandemonium. An emergency session of the Wizengamot had been called, and he, along with the other department heads of the Ministry and the Lords of the Noble Houses, as well as many of the most important witches and wizards of the Wizarding world, had been summoned by official Ministry owls that morning.

The last emergency session Crouch could remember attending was during the last war, and he'd been then one who'd done the summoning. He would've made Minister then within the year then, but somehow everything had gone wrong and his world had come crashing down around him. His fall from grace had been galling, but he supposed it was a small price to pay for being found out as the father of a murdering death eater.

The fear and confusion of the people rushing about reminded him of that dark time, and he felt anticipation building inside him.

If he was reading the signs right, something momentous had occurred. He had spent years reestablishing his political credentials and rebuilding his public reputation. Perhaps he could solve whatever problem the Ministry was facing and use the good-will he'd garner to push for the Minister's post again.

He strode into one of the open lifts, stepping into the bubble of space that automatically opened for him, as people stepped back out of his way in respect. He acknowledged the greetings that came his way with a dignified nod. The lift was full of people and had to expand magically to fit them all.

A couple of Aurors were inside the lift with him, and were whispering to each other. Crouch caught snippets of their conversation as the lift slowly moved towards the Department of Mysteries.

"…can't believe he escaped," a young Auror exclaimed.

"What really surprises me is that he successfully cast an Imperius on Auror Grant," his friend remarked.

"I know," said the young Auror, looking suitably impressed and somewhat intimidated, "Moody is going to give us hell for that."

"I didn't need that reminder," his friend grimaced.

Further conversation ceased when the life stopped and the doors. Crouch stepped out into corridor that led the Department of Mysteries. He turned from the entrance and took the stairs to the left that led to the lower courtrooms, along with half a dozen stressed-looking people. He was now burning with curiosity, though he did his best to look aloof and disinterested.

He was let into the courtrooms by a young Auror on door duty, who greeted him respectfully. The largest courtroom in the Ministry, which doubled as the Wizengamot Hall, was completely full. Crouch paused at the entrance, surprised at the sheer number of people present. The whispers of the gathered wizards and witches filled the chamber with a quiet, excited hum.

A couple of young Aurors had been asked to supervise the handful of press members who had been allowed to attend, and they were now frantically trying to control them and prevent them from bothering the Wizengamot members.

Crouch slowly strode through the hall, down the aisle. He located his seat in the middle of the front row and nodded cordially to his fellow department heads.

There was a sudden lull in the conversations taking place around him- Crouch looked around to find that Fudge, followed by Amelia Bones and the Undersecretary for Magic, Delores Umbridge had just entered. The Minister was looking flustered and red-faced, while his undersecretary looked as if someone had asked her to adopt a pet werewolf. Madam Bones alone of the three of them looked calm and collected.

Albus Dumbledore, the most magically powerful wizard in Magical Britain, and maybe the World, strode in behind them. He, because he was the Chief Warlock, had to be the last person to walk in, as tradition dictated. His expression was grave, but his blue eyes twinkled with their usual warmth when he smiled serenely at a few people who called out to him in greeting.

Fudge, Bones and Dumbledore were the only people in the room wearing black colored robes- which signified their rank as the presiding leaders of the current session. They settled into the large, throne-like chairs behind the raised, curved dais that was present at the head of the room.

Fudge sat in the center, while Dumbledore sat to his left and Bones to his right. Umbridge had followed Fudge to the dais and now hovered behind him, scowling.

Fudge, clutching a parchment in his hand, stood and cleared his throat. It failed to still the murmur of conversation in the room.

Bones scowled and raised her wand in the air, sending out a bright flash of white light, accompanied by a noise like a gunshot. "Be silent while the Minister speaks, or you will be asked to leave the hall," she said sternly.

The chamber quieted obediently. Everyone was now looking at Fudge expectantly.

The man cleared his throat again and glanced once at Madam Bones, "Thank you, Madam Bones. Well, you've all been summoned for an emergency session of the Wizengamot- the first such session we've held in more than a decade, if memory serves correctly. The matter we're here to discuss is rather grave, so I recommend we dispense with the usual formalities for the current session."

There was a murmur of agreement in the room, though some of the snootier Lords looked disapproving.

"Now, I'm sure most of you have already heard the news, but I must make a formal announcement for everyone's benefit," he paused, took a deep breath, and continued, "Sirius Black, heir apparent to the House of Black, escaped Ministry custody two days ago and is now at large. His current location is unknown."

There was a new murmur of conversation, and not a few gasps, from the people in the hall.

Crouch frowned in consternation- he remembered Sirius Black, and his family, too well.

"This event, of course, has no known precedent in our history-," Fudge said needlessly.

There was a louder mutter at this proclamation.

"-but nonetheless, I assure you, my administration will do its best to contain the damage this event could pose to our national security and apprehend the convict as soon as possible."

Most of the people present were now wearing identical skeptical looks.

"Err… Right," Fudge faltered, not having received the applause he'd been looking for, "Well, Madam Bones here, who is personally overseeing the investigation, will now apprise you of the progress we've made so far in an effort to locate Black."

Madame Bones stood up, looking stern and intimidating. She commanded instant silence, unlike Fudge, when she began speaking, "First, before we discuss the investigation, I'd like to relay a couple of facts about the escaped convict. They should help give you an insight into how dangerous he really is and why he could potentially pose a threat to our national security, as the Minister implied."

"Sirius Black is the only surviving son of Lord Orion Black and Walburga Black, who are both deceased. He had a brother, Regulus Black, who is confirmed as being a part of the Death Eater's, according to a testimony given by Karkaroff. Regulus Black died just before the fall of the Dark Lord, according to our records."

She gave them a moment to absorb the information, before continuing, "The Black family is one of the most ancient families of the Wizarding world, and is, in fact, one of the founding families of this body. It has a dark and bloody history and it has been linked to several Dark Lords in the past, though never conclusively. Until Voldemort's," there were several gasps and mutters through the crowd, which she ignored, "reign of terror, that is. Regulus Black, Sirius Black and Bellatrix Lestrange Nee Black are on record as known supporters of the Dark Lord Voldemort."

Crouch looked around to see surprise, shock and trepidation on several faces. He was sure not many were aware that Bellatrix Lestrange was, in fact, a Black by birth.

"Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black, cousin to Sirius Black, is known to be extremely violent and dangerous. She has slaughtered an untold number of Muggles and Wizards in the past. She has also performed other truly heinous acts in the Dark Lord's service that I don't care to name now. She was known for her fanatical loyalty to her Lord and her almost peerless dueling skills during the last war. Luckily for us, she's safely behind the walls of Azkaban- at the moment."

"Let me warn you, Wizengamot- her cousin, Sirius Black, is just as dangerous as her, if not more so. He graduated from Hogwarts with top marks in every subject, and showed special talent in defense against the dark arts. According to my files, he participated in the international dueling circuit in 1971 and reached the finals on his first try. He is suspected of having being the Dark Lord's second-in-command, though that has never been proven. He was sentenced to Azkaban after he was apprehended for the murder of one Peter Pettigrew and 13 Muggles. That is the only criminal record we have against him. He used a single level 4 dark curse to perform the gruesome act."

There were loud mutters and cries of surprise at this revelation, they hadn't heard this information before, but Bones scowled dangerously until everyone had quieted, "He escaped two nights ago by means unknown. He somehow overcame two armed Aurors and Imperiused one of them, while shutting the other one in his cell."

It was deathly quiet in the hall. Everyone was hanging on to her every word.

"The second Auror sustained severe injuries on his head and has been admitted to St. Mungos. He is, thankfully, expected to make a full recovery. We have also broken Black's Imperius hold on the first Auror, though there was no resistance from him when we tried- it was almost as if he was expecting it and didn't care. It's highly disconcerting that Black was able to, without his wand, defeat two Aurors and subject one of them to the Imperius. It shouldn't have been possible- the Dementors are known to drain the prisoners of almost every ounce of magic they possess, and Sirius Black was in there for 10 years. He shouldn't have been capable of casting a Lumos, let alone an Imperius."

An undercurrent of tension was running in the air.

Madam Bones paused, her gaze roving the hall, a strange expression on her face. "The Ludicrous Patents Office received an owl today-"

The strange turn her speech had taken caught everyone off guard, but they continued listening to her, this time with confused expressions on their faces. The only sound in the room was the furious scratching of quill on parchment, as the reporters in the room scribbled everything Madam Bones was saying with extreme concentration.

"The letter the owl bore was from Sirius Black," she began.

It was one revelation too many. Pandemonium broke loose in the chamber.

"Why haven't I heard of this?!" Lucius Malfoy, in the front row a few seats away from Crouch, was standing boldly and sneering at her.

Several of the other members demanded to be shown the letter for themselves.

The journalists abandoned all pretenses at decorum and began clicking photos of the members of their ruling body making fools of themselves.

"SILENCE," Madam Bones roared, her magically amplified voice washing over everyone in the chamber like a physical tidal wave, "If anyone raises their voice to me again, I will personally throw them out of this chamber. Yes, Mr. Malfoy, that includes you."

Lucius sat down, looking peeved at being publically chastised but unwilling to disobey her. He began glaring daggers at Fudge instead, who fidgeted uncomfortably and refused the meet his eyes.

"The letter is the reason we're gathered here today, and I'll read it out to you- if you settle down and control yourselves," Bones informed them. She then started speaking in a normal voice once again. "From some of your expressions, you are wondering why he sent an owl to the Ludicrous Patents Office," she remarked.

Most of the gathered members nodded mutely.

"He wanted to trademark a name," she began, a tumult of emotions on her face. Finally, mild amusement won out, "He wants to put a trademark on the name Dark Lord… Siriusly Black."

There was a long moment's silence as everyone wondered if they'd heard her correctly. Nobody knew what to make of it. There were a few tentative snickers from the back, but they were quickly stifled in response to Madam Bones' glare.

"Black appears to have gone around the bend," she continued, "but that doesn't make him any less of a threat to us. He has demonstrated what he's capable of in the past, and spending a decade in Azkaban may have broken his mind and made him more dangerous than he was before. His letter, which I will read to you now, word for word, is…disturbing, to say the least."

She picked up a parchment from the table and smoothed it out.

She began reading in neutral voice, doing her best not to show any emotion, her self-control now tested as it had never been tested before, "_Dear Fucktards, Bitches,Tossers, Nonces and Sheep of the Wizarding World, I, the new Dark Lord, Siriusly Black, tm, am now proclaiming myself to be your Dark Overlord. You, the entire Wizarding World, will swear fealty to me or you will be wiped out of existence. If you thought my so-called Master the Dark Dipshit was bad, you haven't seen nothing yet."_

_"Some of you, the tiny minority that has two brain-cells to rub together, might wonder why I'm doing this. Well, to cut a long story short, I was put into Azkaban without a trial, without any real proof- and no, the eyewitness accounts of a bunch of random Muggles who were hit with a Confundus Charm don't count- and then I'd to undergo a decade of fucking mind-rape that I didn't, in any way, deserve. Well, mostly." _

_"Therefore, you have no right to complain if I'm now batshit crazy and want to destroy your, our, society entirely –it's clearly fucked up- and form a new one in its place. Incidentally, if I wasn't clear enough before, I will be the Dark Overlord of the new society. That's all, I guess. You can now go back to doing whatever you were doing and await your doom."_

_"P.S.: In the unlikely scenario you choose to accept my demands, I will expect 7 young and nubile women for my harem as part of my reparation. P.P.S: I also want to be the new Headmaster of Hogwarts- it's about time Albus retired."_

Pandemonium broke out again, and this time there was nothing Madam Black could do to control it.

* * *

Crouch shuffled out of the lift and into the Atrium, headed home for a late dinner. He appeared bedraggled and unpresentable for the first time in his long and distinguished career. He had been grilled for hours in a closed session that had involved Fudge, Bones, Dumbledore, Weasley and the other Department Heads.

He'd been quizzed on his decision to throw Black in Azkaban without trial several times, but nobody could really fault him for it- who could say what they'd have done in his place? They'd all agreed, behind closed doors, that Black's greatest crime had been betraying the Potters to Voldemort, and Black's letter was strangely silent about that.

Crouch was completely exhausted and couldn't think straight, but he couldn't relax just yet. He had a mountain of paperwork to complete and he'd have to return to his office within the hour.

The Ministry around him was in an even greater uproar than before. People were shouting and running to and fro, several of them wearing panicked expressions on their face. Workplace-discipline had been thrown out the window.

The Minister had declared a National State of Emergency and placed a hundred-thousand galleon bounty on Black's head. Most of the Dementors in Britain were now scouring the country for Black. They would also be stationed everywhere- including Diagon Alley and Hogwarts.

Crouch didn't expect the situation to calm for at least the next couple of months. He felt the beginnings of a massive headache coming on.

Someone bumped into him as he walked past the statue of Magical Brethren. He never felt the stunner that hit him on his lower back.

* * *

Remus grabbed Crouch and activated the Portkey with a tap of his wand, muttering the pass key in his mind.

Nobody had noticed him stun the man in the chaos or noiselessly disappear with him. His tasks were now complete.

* * *

The half-moon in the sky threw a pale, soft glow on the proceedings below. A small cauldron hung over a delicate purple fire in the center of the large grassy clearing. The clearing was surrounded by an ever expanding circle of tall trees, which shook and groaned in the wind. The liquid inside the cauldron occasionally made bubbling noises and gave off wisps of a nauseating orange steam.

The air in the clearing seemed to shimmer and glitter strangely because of the wards Sirius had erected to keep the Ministry from finding them.

"You can't be serious!" Remus exclaimed from where he was standing next to the cauldron.

"I assure you, Moony, I'm Sirius and not a doppelganger or something," Sirius told him automatically. He looked up briefly from the book he was referencing and grinned.

Remus groaned loudly.

"Padfoot, if you abuse that pun one more time, I'll…," Remus began warningly.

"You'll what, Remmy?" Sirius mocked him.

"I'll…I'll box your ears," Remus said, taking a threatening step forward, "Don't think I won't. And don't call me Remmy!"

"Alright, alright, down boy! Anger is bad for your blood pressure, or so they tell me," Sirius said jauntily.

Remus just buried his face in his hands.

Sirius shut the book and canceled the Lumos on his wand. He slipped it in his trunk and then began rummaging in it, muttering under his breath. When he straightened up, he was holding a long, deadly-looking silver knife he'd had Remus pick up earlier. It gleamed very brightly in the moonlight, almost if the metal was absorbing the light of the moon. Sirius ran his thumb over the blade slowly. He made no sound of protest even when he cut an inch-deep gash across his thumb and a trickle of blood spilled out, coating the blade.

"Padfoot, for Merlin's sake, you can't call yourself Dark Lord Seriously Black," Remus argued, continuing their earlier debate, "I mean, who in their right mind would take you seriously? Argh, no don't make another bad pun, damn you!"

"I thought you said I shouldn't try to be a Dark Lord?" Sirius inquired, ignoring his friend's theatrics. He bent over the cauldron and stirred the brown, slushy liquid inside two times clockwise with a smooth motion. He stepped back, satisfied, when the liquid turned a dark brown and began to bubble angrily. He turned to Remus with a raised eyebrow, "You said it was insane. So what do you care what I call myself?"

"Well, I'm clearly not going to be able to talk you out of it," Remus said helplessly, gesturing from the bubbling cauldron to the half naked man who was hanging upside in the air, as if suspended from invisible ropes, beside it.

Bartimeus Crouch, Sr., as if on cue, groaned and began to come to.

"Damn right you're not," Sirius muttered. "Tell me, Moony," he began grandly, ignoring the disgusting piece of half-naked, ancient, somewhat overweight human flesh beside him with the help of the fortitude he had gained through spending untold years in Azkaban, "what's the motto of the Marauders?"

"Err…hit them where it hurts?" Remus had long since given up trying to hold a sane conversation with Sirius.

"No, the other one."

"Prank them to hell and keep pranking them when we die and are forced to join them there?" Remus said in one breath.

"Nope, not that one."

"Pranking is an art, not a science?" Remus tried.

"Damn it, Moony," Sirius said, exasperated, "What's wrong with you?! You've lost your Marauder's handbook again, haven't you?! No, I meant "always catch them with their pants down and then prank them." "

"Err…?"

"I plan to catch the Wizarding world with its pants down and then take it over Moony," he explained patiently, as if to a three year old, "I can only do that if everyone is too busy laughing at me to take me Siriusly."

"I…I… That doesn't make any sense… why…" Remus' eyes widened in realization, "Hey wait a minute, was that another pun?!"

Before Sirius could reply, he was interrupted with a shout of outrage from his right, "Black?! You…how… What is the meaning of this?! Let me down at once!" Crouch began to struggle against the magical bonds automatically, glaring at Sirius. He didn't budge more than an inch for all his trouble. His face became red with exertion and drops of sweat began falling from his head to the ground below.

Sirius turned to Crouch and smiled at him. It was a feral smile, wild, and completely insane. Crouch stilled, his eyes widening in fear. He redoubled his efforts to break out of the spell, this time in panic- but they both knew it was in vain.

"Barty…" Sirius said, walking over to him with easy, confident steps, looking for all the world like a predator about to devour its prey. "You're awake, I see… and just when we're about ready for you. I hate to say it, but you're looking worse than ever. Job not treating you too well?"

Crouch gave up trying to escape, "What are you going to do, Black? Kill me? Go ahead, you Death Eater spawn! I'm not scared of dying," Crouch spat out, finding some small measure of courage in what he thought were his final moments.

"Now, now, Barty baby… why would I kill you?"

"You… you wouldn't?" Crouch asked him, thoroughly confused.

"No, Barty… That would be too easy, wouldn't it? Oh, I'll admit, I've fantasized about killing you, along with several other people, everyday single day for a decade in Azkaban…," Sirius trailed the silver knife slowly over the elderly man's chest, over his heart, hard enough to draw blood, his actions eliciting a gasp from Remus and a cry of pain from Couch. "But no, that wouldn't be punishment enough for you, would it, Bartemia? Your death, as pleasing at it'd be, wouldn't accomplish anything, wouldn't help me in any way," Sirius continued, collecting the well of blood in a conjured glass jar.

He walked back to the cauldron and slowly, almost lovingly, poured the blood inside the cauldron. The potion changed color again with a quiet, sinister hiss, this time to a deep blood-red.

Sirius turned to Crouch and smiled happily, "No Barbie, you have the honor of being the sacrifice for my blood ritual."

"W-what?!B-Blood Ritual?!" All the blood drained from the elderly man's face- which was quite a feat, seeing as he was hanging upside down in the air, "You…you can't be serious!?"

Remus, despite the seriousness of the situation, groaned loudly.

"Oh, I assure you, Crotch, I'm" Sirius began, and then ducked quickly to avoid Remus' uppercut, "in fact already carrying it out," he finished lamely.

"Why are you doing this, Black?" the man whimpered, all dignity forgotten, "Do you want me to beg for your forgiveness? Do you want galleons? An official pardon? I'll do anything you want!"

"Will you admit to the whole world you were wrong about me?" Sirius asked him curiously.

"Yes, yes!"

"And admit that you threw me into Azkaban without a trial?" Sirius pressed on.

"Yes, yes!"

"Will you also admit that you're secretly gay and occasionally enjoy midnight pool parties with naked man hookers?" Sirius asked him, holding Crouch's eyes with his best gimlet stare. It was hard, seeing as Crouch was upside down, but somehow Sirius managed.

"Yes… wait, what?!"

Remus groaned.

"Ahah, I didn't think so!" Sirius exclaimed. "I'm just messing with you, Barbie. I have no intention of letting you go, you know. You make a compelling argument, but it'd take too long to find someone else for my blood ritual. You should be honored- you get to witness the rise of the next Dark Lord, who will, incidentally, never fall to the hand of a 1 year old baby! Unless that baby was to set off a Muggle nuclear bomb by mistake, I suppose-" Sirius mused.

"You're insane…," Barbie… Crouch said weakly.

"Yeah, I know, I get that a lot," Sirius said proudly.

"How can you go along with this insanity, Lupin?" Crouch asked Remus, willing to turn to a werewolf in his hour of need.

"I've been asking myself that for half my life. I'll let you know if I ever find the answer," Remus said dryly.

"Right, right, enough talk; let's get on with the Blood Ritual," Sirius exclaimed with the excitement of a hyperactive 6-year-old. He was tempted to clap his hands and jump up and down, but he knew that'd have been too much, even for him.

"Wait, you don't understand…" Crouch began, and then found that he wasn't making any sound, even if his mouth was moving.

Sirius, after he'd silenced the man, flicked his wand at the fire to extinguish it. He levitated the cauldron in the air, conjured a glass and poured himself a good measure of the potion.

He sniffed it cautiously. His stomach rebelled - tepid prison water had nothing on this potion.

"Disgusting," Sirius grimaced. "The things I do for my godson…Oh well, cheers, Barty, Moony," he said, hefting his glass towards both the men in turn.

Crouch and Remus were both staring at him with identical looks of disgust and horror.

He pinched his nose with his free hand and chugged the potion down, trying not to linger on the flavor, which was a mix of garbage, moldy cheese, unwashed socks and sewage. He wasn't sure which was Crouch and which was the ingredients, and he really didn't want to know. It still beat eating the occasional rat he'd caught in Azkaban, though- which he'd just done for practice, of course.

The effects of the potion were immediate.

The clearing around him seemed to light up, and then darken, and then light up again until everything was twice as bright as before. His breathing quickened and he felt a jolt of energy as his heart began to pump wildly. He blinked several times as his eyes changed color from their original grey to a dark red. He was suddenly able to sense the magic of the wards he had erected earlier. They were made up of several different colors, from blue and green to purple, yellow and black- they blazed with energy and seemed to call to him.

The potion roared through his veins and set his senses afire. He could feel his magical core inside him now, a great golden web of energy that was somehow connected to everything around him. It pulsed occasionally, sending out motes of multi-colored light through his skin and huge bursts of energy through his wand. It was breathtakingly beautiful, but damaged. Large tracts of his core were grey, while a few were blackened and dead.

The potion also allowed him to sense the magical cores inside the other two men in the clearing.

Sirius moved towards Crouch slowly, deliriously, stumbling as if he was drunk- which he wasHe unsteadily raised his wand and placed it on the cut he'd made earlier on the man's chest. He began to chant in Latin, softly, "_Sane me, sanguinem tuas, tuas, ut venenatis sana me, te uti sacrificium." _He repeated the chant, louder and louder, until his voice rang through the clearing, shaking with power.

Crouch began to shiver and, as the chant rose in volume, he began to convulse helplessly. His face was screwed up in pain, and his mouth was open in a silent scream.

Sirius began to draw the man's magic out of his body, slowly, in a stream of fiery light, from the tip of his wand. He willed the stream of light to join his magical core. It rushed inside him eagerly in a raging torrent. It seemed to hone in on the damaged areas of his core and began battering away at them, chipping the black away and infusing with the grey until his core seemed to glow with gold, like the sun.

Sirius screamed in agony as the magic bled into him and worked its healing.

After what seemed like an eternity the magic pouring out from Crouch stopped. The man had long since fallen unconscious.

Sirius closed his eyes and took several long, shuddering breaths.

"Sirius, are you alright?" Remus approached him and hesitantly placed a hand on his shoulder, looking apprehensive.

"I'll be alright," Sirius nodded shakily.

"What about him," Remus asked him, nodding towards Crouch.

"He'll live," Sirius told him with a careless wave of his hands, "His magical core, however, has been damaged. It will recover with time, in a decade or two perhaps. Until then he has little more power than a squib."

* * *

Barty Crouch, Jr., woke up in the middle of the night, his head clear and his mind his after a very long time. His blinked his eyes rapidly in disbelief- something had to have happened to his father for the Imperius to have failed.

It could only mean one thing- his Master had returned, killed his father and was now coming for him. He was finally free, thanks to his great Master. He would be rewarded as no Death Eater had ever been before for his long, faithful service.

He waited expectantly, sitting up on his bed, for Voldemort to appear through his bedroom door.

Nothing happened, however hard he wished it.

He squashed the feeling of disappointment ruthlessly. Perhaps his father wasn't dead after all, and he might come back and place him under the Imperius again. His path was clear before him- he'd have to find his Master, help him recover and help him take over the Wizarding World. He knew his master wasn't dead.

But first, before he did anything else, he'd have to change out of his pajamas.

* * *

An owl flew determinedly through the air, heading towards Hogwarts. It carried a package for a small boy with black hair, green eyes and a lightning-bolt scar on his forehead. The package was about to scar one Harry Potter for life and turn his world upside down.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **Thank you lightning king, MyHarryPotterAddiction, Lupinescence, Justme and Jannafrancine for your reviews! I know I said I'll upload a chapter earlier, but this chapter is bigger than the others and took me longer to write. I'll try to upload a couple of chapters every month.

Hope you enjoy the story.

**Chapter 4: Changes**

Remus frowned at his best friend, "Sirius, look, mate, you know I will support you, no matter what- I feel that I owe it to you… But I'm not going to kidnap anyone for you again and help you turn them into a Squib, even if we both think they deserve it."

Sirius nodded agreeably, "Fair enough, Moony, and I won't ask you to. I will recruit other lackeys… err… I mean I can afford to recruit lackeys now."

Remus let the insult pass- for now, "Lackeys? Why do you need lackeys? And since when can you afford to "recruit lackeys" anyway? You don't have any money, and your family isn't exactly as rich as it used to be, even if you somehow persuade the Goblins to let you use your vault. The Ministry seized most of your assets after they threw you in Azkaban, as far as I know. And let's not forget the fact that you emptied my entire account to pay for all of this," he said, gesturing around him at the various items lying around in the clearing.

"All Dark Lords need lackeys, mate. And I'll pay you back soon, don't worry," Sirius said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"And how exactly will you do that? Are you planning to get a nice desk job at the Ministry?" Remus inquired sarcastically.

Sirius smiled, and Remus took an automatic step back, "Tell me, Moony, what do you know about the Philosopher's Stone?"

"Err… you mean the legendary stone that grants immortality?"

"Yeah, that one," Sirius nodded.

"It also grants unlimited wealth by letting you turn any metal to gold," Remus continued, and then his eyes widened in realization.

"Yup," Sirius confirmed.

"Padfoot…" Remus began warningly, "What did you do?"

"Why must you automatically assume I did something?" Sirius said, affecting a hurt look.

"Because I know you too well," Remus scowled, disgusted with himself.

"Well, I visited Nicholas and Perenelle today," Sirius began, ignoring his insinuations.

"Of course you did," Remus said, taking it in stride.

"And I convinced them to tell me how to make a Philosopher's Stone."

"Why am I not surprised?" Remus said dryly.

"Well they were dying, you see, and they wanted to get rid of me quickly and have some sex before then," Sirius said casually.

Remus stared at him, "You know, the scary thing is that I think you're actually telling the truth."

"And when have I ever lied to you, Moony?"

"Well, there was that one time-"Remus began immediately.

"Anyway," Sirius said loudly, drowning him out, "The gist of the story is that they lent me their notes on making a Philosopher's stone, and they also showed me some nifty Occlumency tricks."

"I see," Remus said faintly, finally believing him.

Sirius continued sadly, "Too bad they're dead now. I liked them, especially Perenelle, she was hot- well, at least as hot as a centuries old crone could be at any rate. Oh well, I'll see them soon enough, I suppose."

"Why do you have to be so damn morbid all the time? It's almost as if you enjoy it," Remus complained.

"What can I say Moony? I'm morally obligated to rub the fact that I spent 10 years in the hellhole they call Azkaban in your face all the time and I am- what's the Muggle term- bipolar and suffering from other horrible mental disorders," Sirius informed him.

"You're never going to let that go, are you? I said I was sorry, you don't have to keep reminding me I messed up all the bloody time!" Remus exclaimed. Sirius was wearing away the guilt he was harboring by being his usual extremely annoying self.

"As long as you don't forget me again," Sirius said, crossing his arms and sticking his tongue out at him.

"Right, as if anyone could forget that ugly mug of yours…" Remus muttered, "Anyway, you know how to make a Philosopher's Stone?" Remus prompted him, trying to make their conversation less depressing and making a mental note to take Sirius to see a healer soon- kicking and screaming if he had to.

"Yup," Sirius confirmed.

"What are you planning to do with it then?" Remus asked him.

"Apart from using it to live forever, you mean? Well theoretically living forever, at any rate," Sirius mused.

"Yeah, apart from that."

"Tell me Moony, how do you win a war?" Sirius asked him with a waggle of his eyebrows.

"Err… by force perhaps?"

"Nice try, Moony, but nope- the answer is by having more resources than your opponents. In the end, it all boils down to resources. And with the Philosopher's Stone, I have unlimited resources at my disposal. The Wizarding World is screwed already, they just don't know it yet."

"I…"

Sirius grinned maniacally, "Nobody can stop the Dark Lord He-Who-Must-Be-Named Siriusly Black!" There was a low drumroll in the background, followed by a dramatic flash of lightning and a roll of thunder.

"Padfoot, did you just do what I think you did?" Remus said slowly.

"I did," Sirius nodded, slipping his wand back inside his pocket.

Remus smacked him on the back of his head, hard.

"Damn it, Moony! What was that for?" Sirius whined, rubbing his head.

"Cause you needed it, mate- trust me," Remus told him somberly.

Sirius just huffed and looked away.

Remus nodded his head at Crouch, who was still unconscious and hanging upside down in the air, "And what do we do with him?"

"I suppose we can't keep him dangling here forever," Sirius replied thoughtfully. "Maybe we should cut him up into tiny little pieces and feed him to the local wildlife," Sirius said, gesturing to the dark forest around them hopefully.

"I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you."

"Well, then, I guess I should call Kreacher and have him drop Crouch home. Oh right, wait, I should Memory Charm him first," Sirius said, thinking out loud, drawing his wand.

"Memory Charm him? Whatever for?" Remus asked him, confused.

"I don't want them to know you're working with me. I'll leave memories of me performing the blood ritual on him intact, though," Sirius replied. He then pointed his wand at Crouch, concentrating on his intent, and muttered, "_Obliviate"._

"Kreacher!" Sirius called out, after he was done.

Kreacher appeared in the clearing with a loud crack.

"Blood-Traitor Master calls and Kreacher is forced to come. Oh, what would Mistress think if she could but see Kreacher now…" the elf began to mutter under his breath, then paused and looked around the clearing suspiciously. He cautiously sniffed the air, and his large, droopy ears began to waggle strangely. "Bad Master performed a Blood Ritual. Kreacher can smell the blood and magic in the air… why would Filthy Master need to do a Blood Ritual, Kreacher wonders. And what does Master need from Kreacher?" Kreacher stared at Sirius, his eyes curious and calculating. There was even a little respect in there somewhere.

"Take Crouch and drop him off at his house," Sirius said quickly, before the elf could ask him any other questions. "Also, do you know the spell to summon Voldemort's mark? I want you to fire it over Crouch's house."

Kreacher's eyes widened, "Master wants Kreacher to use the spell to conjure the Dark Lords mark?"

"Yes, you little twerp," Sirius snapped. "You can use his wand," Sirius said, handing it to him, "You know the spell don't you?"

"Kreacher knows," the elf nodded slowly, staring at the wand in his hand strangely, "Kreacher has seen Master Regulus use it before. But why does Master want Kreacher to do this?"

"Never you mind," Sirius said with a shooing motion, "Go on now."

"And what is Kreacher to do with the wizard's wand afterwards?" Kreacher asked him, his old voice quivering with strong emotions.

"I'd say snap it into two and throw it at Crouch's head- he won't be needing it anytime soon. But then that would be such a waste… Tell you what Kreacher, I'm feeling generous today- use the wand, go crazy, do whatever you want with it!" Sirius exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Master is giving Kreacher a wand of his own? Master is giving a House Elf a wand?" Kreacher asked him disbelievingly, his round eyes even rounder than usual.

"Yeah, you annoying little bugger. Now go, quickly, before I change my mind," Sirius said threateningly.

There was a loud crack as Kreacher vanished with Crouch in tow.

"I think you just made a horrible, horrible mistake- a mistake you'll regret for the rest of your now probably abbreviated life," Remus said, shuddering at the thought of having a crazy House Elf with a wand of its own on the loose.

"Psh. Bonded House Elfs can't harm humans directly anyway, except in the defense of their master, so I don't see what could go wrong."

"A lot, I'm sure, when it's your House Elf we're talking about, " Remus said dryly, "Kreacher is crazy, even by House Elf standards. Like Master, like House Elf."

"Hey! That was too low, Moony, even for you!" Sirius exclaimed, "Your words really hurt sometimes, you know."

"If only they didn't bounce off that granite skull of yours," Remus replied heartlessly, and then steered the topic in a different direction quickly before Sirius could curse him or, worse, prank him. "Why did you want Kreacher to fire the Dark Mark over his house anyway?"

"I'm the new Dark Lord. Let them think I'm continuing the Dark Wanker's work. I'm sure most Witches and Wizards fear that mark still, so it'll just make my work easier for me. Also, if the Dark Dipshit ever rises again, he'll have to find a new Mark or continue using his old one and share the credit of his …hard-work with me," Sirius said with a feral smile.

Remus raised his eyebrows, impressed.

"And what do we do now?" Remus asked his friend. "Do you have any other insane ideas planned? Like stealing everyone's pajamas or something?"

"Well, I need a vacation, Moony" Sirius replied, ignoring Remus' lame idea "I was thinking of visiting South America, or maybe soak up some sun on a quiet beach in Spain, and then maybe I'll sleep around a bit. Can you believe it's been a decade since I've had sex?" Sirius exclaimed. "James must be rolling in his grave!"

Remus rolled his eyes, "Yeah, I'm sure that's why he's rolling in his grave. And what about Harry?! And Voldemort?"

"I'll see Harry soon enough, Moony," Sirius assured him, "And the Dark Bugger isn't going anywhere sadly. The thing is, it takes exactly 7 moon phases to make a Philosopher's Stone and I can't really do anything without it at the moment. Also, the elixir won't do its work in a single day- I'll need time to recuperate and rebuild my body. I'll see if I can find a Muggle agent who can help me rent a beach house or something, and set up a small potion's lab there…"

"You don't want me to come with you?" Remus said sadly.

Sirius rolled his eyes, "Stop being so bloody sensitive, you big wuss! Merlin, you're as clingy as my ex- girlfriend. No, you'll better serve the cause by staying here and keeping an eye on things. The Ministry doesn't know that you're in collusion with me, and I doubt they'll ever figure it out. So you should be safe enough in Britain. I'll visit you every week by Portkey, even, if it makes you happy."

"And I'm looking forward to your visits already..." Remus muttered, "And what about that letter you sent to the Ministry? You've proclaimed yourself as the next Dark Lord, but you don't even plan on being in Wizarding Britain for the better part of a year."

"I'm just messing with their heads, Moony. What I did to Crouch should keep them nice and fearful for now. Let them go crazy wondering why I don't do anything else for the next few months. I'll strike later, when they've dropped their guard a bit. Also, don't forget the priority here is keeping Harry safe. I have taken steps to ensure that he'll be okay this year. Well, I hope so, at least. I'm sure nobody has told him about me, so I don't know if he'll trust me… Can't really keep him completely safe until I become Headmaster..."Sirius trailed off, looking pensive.

"Are you sure you're okay, Sirius? You've given me several sane answers in a row now," Remus said with fake concern.

Sirius rolled his eyes, not rising to the bait. "Nobody likes a smartass, wolf. Oh, you know, also, I was thinking..." Sirius began, and then trailed off again, looking thoughtful.

"Of course you were," Remus muttered with a sigh, looking resigned. "What is it Padfoot? What do you want me to do this time?" he continued, "By the way, you really seem to have thought all this through, haven't you? I must admit, I was rather doubtful at the beginning… Padfoot, why are you smiling like that? No, stop grinning, damn it! Damn you to deepest pit of hell, you great, big mangy mutt! Don't tell me you're making all this all up as you go along!"

* * *

Harry Potter found himself pleading with Madam Pomfrey, again, "But I don't understand what the fuss is all about! I just want to return to the Gryffindor tower…"

He was cut off by the stern older woman, "No, Mr. Potter, as I said before, I'm afraid I've been asked to keep you here overnight. You'll be allowed down to breakfast tomorrow, and I'm sure you'll get to meet your friends then."

"But why, Madam Pomfrey? I thought I was okay now and I could leave. And today is the day of the end-of-the-year feast! We're all supposed to be leaving for home tomorrow, aren't we?" He inquired.

"Actually, Mr. Potter…Harry, the date of your departure has been pushed back a little and the leaving feast has been postponed- all by Professor Dumbledore's' orders. He will explain it all to you tomorrow- immediately after you've had breakfast."

"Why can't he explain it to me now?" Harry asked her curiously. He didn't care that the date of their departure had been pushed back- he couldn't be happier that he'd be able to spend a few more days at Hogwarts before he had to return to the Dursleys again.

"He is not currently in Hogwarts, as he was asked to attend an important meeting at the Ministry. No, don't ask me what kind of a meeting- I don't know, and I wouldn't tell you even if I did. He will tell you all you need to know when he gets back," Madam Pomfrey said to him in a firm voice. "Now I know you're almost fully recovered, so I'll allow you to stay up a bit later than usual if you want. But you are not to leave the Hospital Wing- have I made myself clear?!"

"Yes Ma'am," Harry said grudgingly.

He couldn't wait for the next day to arrive. He was burning with curiosity for why he was suddenly being treated like a prisoner. He thought he'd caught a glimpse of a man lounging outside the door earlier, acting as if he was guarding the Hospital Wing. And his friends hadn't been allowed in when they had come to visit him, however much he had pleaded with Madam Pomfrey.

Harry settled down on his bed and picked up the album Hagrid had given to him. He began to flip through its pages, pausing every now and again to devour his parents' happy, smiling faces. He absently ran his hand over one picture of his father hugging his mother tightly before a shining Christmas tree, both of them smiling at the camera. They had been so young, so happy and so full of life. His father had a mischievous glint in his eye, while his mother's eyes were full of kindness and laughter- though she also had a temper to watch out for, apparently, judging from the number of pictures in the album of her screaming at his father.

Harry was beginning to feel drowsy after several minutes had passed, so he took of his glasses and just lay back down on his bed. He soon fell fast asleep, a small smile on his face.

* * *

Harry had slept early the day before, so he'd gotten up far earlier than usual. Consequently, he found himself to be amongst the first to arrive in the Great Hall for breakfast. He made his way over to the almost empty Gryffindor table and plopped himself down in his usual seat.

He helped himself to some bacon and toast, poured himself a goblet of Pumpkin juice and began eating. He was famished, and he didn't think he'd last until Ron and Hermione came down, so he'd start without them – he was sure they wouldn't mind.

Many of the students present were staring at him curiously and whispering to each other, but he was almost used to that by now. At least they didn't attempt to come over and question him. Harry was sure that was because Professor Flitwick, the lone Professor in the Great Hall, was keeping an eye on the situation.

Harry kept his head down and concentrated on his food, trying not to fidget under the attention he was receiving. Usually his friends were there to divert his thoughts away from the whispers and stares he always attracted, but they weren't there today and he felt oddly exposed without their comforting presence.

Gradually the attention drifted away from him, after the students had made sure he wouldn't suddenly announce that he'd slain a dragon or something, and Harry found that he was able to finally relax.

Halfway through his meal, he heard the sound of the flapping of wings. He looked up to see that a single, ordinary-looking grey owl had entered the Great Hall and was now bearing down towards him. It was carrying a small, wrapped package that seemed to weight it down a bit. The few students in the Hall and Professor Flitwick were all looking at the owl curiously – usually the owls only entered the Great Hall much later, when it was full, and always in a group.

The owl landed with a thump next to his plate and hooted at him commandingly. It then dipped its beak inside his goblet and began drinking his pumpkin juice. Harry, meanwhile, hesitantly untied the package from its leg, wondering who could have sent in to him- it certainly couldn't be his relatives, obviously.

The owl, upon seeing that he had the package, flapped its wings once or twice, hooted approvingly, and flew back the way it had come.

Harry unwrapped the package quickly, curious to see what was within. A small book fell out, with a piece of folded parchment stuck to its cover and bearing his name. It was followed by what appeared to be a small mirror and Harry had to catch it quickly before it could tumble to the floor.

Harry tugged the parchment loose and smoothed it out, and began to read the letter – for a letter it was, and it was addressed to him.

"_Dear Harry,_

_My name is Sirius Black and I'm your godfather. I was James' best friend in school… we knew each other all our lives. He was like a brother to me. He wanted me to be your guardian in the event anything happened to him or Lily. No, in case you're wondering, this is not a joke, I'm serious. And yes, I just made a pun."_

Harry sucked in his breath after the first few words, his emotions in turmoil. He had a godfather? Since when? Why hadn't anyone ever told him? Why had he grown up with his relatives who hated him? Why not his godfather? And why was he always so unlucky? Nobody else he knew could land a godfather who would stoop so low as to make stupid name puns.

_"Now I probably know what you're thinking- why didn't anyone ever tell you that you had a godfather? Or perhaps how did you get so lucky as to get me, the brilliant Sirius Black, as your godfather? Well, the truth is, kiddo, I was in prison for the past decade, so I'm assuming nobody wanted you associating with me. Personally I don't see what the big deal is- I'd have loved having a thug for a godfather as a kid, especially if it was anyone as cool as me. Instead, I was stuck with Uncle Alphard- who was a nice enough bloke, truthfully, but he could never hold a candle to a hardened criminal. Anyway, we're drifting off topic, I suppose. Right, well, to cut a long story short, I was thrown into prison without a trial, even when I was innocent (you can check Ministry records if you don't believe me)."_

His Godfather had been in prison? He'd broken out? He claimed he was innocent? Harry didn't know what to think, so he continued reading the letter instead.

_"I broke out when I heard you were having problems with Voldemort. I have a certain responsibility towards you as a godparent that I intend to fulfill, which I just couldn't when I was in prison, you know? So you see why I had to break out..."_

_"Now, as we both know Voldemort isn't going to drop dead on his own anytime soon and something tells me he's going to keep coming after you. So I've sent you a book that should help you prepare yourself a bit for future encounters with the Dark Wanker (you should forget you ever read that word). I've also sent you a mirror that you can contact me with if you say my name. I must warn you that it will only respond to your voice, and only when you are alone. I'll be using a mirror that's connected to yours, so we can talk face-to-face."_

Harry struggled to absorb that part of the letter. He didn't know what to believe. He couldn't help the small surge of hope and joy that rose in his chest, though, at the thought that this man had broken out of prison solely for his sake. He couldn't be all bad if what he claimed was true.

But Harry was nothing if not cynical –his relatives had taught him that at an early age- so he was taking everything his so-called Godfather had written with a pinch of salt.

Harry picked up the mirror and examined it. It appeared to be a regular mirror that showed him his face. He, almost automatically, whispered "Sirius Black" to the mirror, but the mirror continued reflecting his own now slightly puzzled image back at him. Oh right, the mirror wouldn't work if he wasn't alone, and he certainly wasn't alone if he was in the Great Hall.

He picked up the book next and then dropped it quickly, almost as if his hand had been scalded. The title of the small black book proclaimed "The Dark Arts Unleashed" in red letters, with no author's name on it. His Godfather had sent him a book on the Dark Arts?! Was the man crazy? Evil?!

_"You will find some common Dark Arts spells in there that the Dark Dipshit might choose to throw at you. Now I don't suggest you learn them, but you should at least acquaint yourself with them so you'll know how to counter them."_

Harry thought it was reasonable advice, all things considered. Perhaps the man wasn't evil after all, just crazy.

_"I'll teach you any spells you want from that book when we meet later."_

Harry quickly revised his opinion. The man was probably either crazy or evil, or both.

_"I know you must have a hundred questions, so I want you to contact me on your mirror tonight. I'll be happy to answer them all. Oh, also, don't believe everything the Daily Prophet has to say. Well yeah I am the next Dark Lord, and yeah I did kidnap Crouch and did bad things to him, but apart from that whatever they say is a lie. Well, mostly. Oh, I almost forgot: open the last page of the book and tap your wand on it. It's my little present to you. You see, kiddo, so teaching you something about life is my responsibility too. Well, it's my responsibility to corrupt you at any rate- I'm your godfather after all."_

Harry hesitantly opened the small book to the final page, wondering if his supposed godfather had sent him a particularly nasty dark spell to learn in the hopes of corrupting him. He'd just take a peek at it- he was curious and, after all, what could it hurt? The final page was blank. He withdrew his wand from his pocket and tapped it on the page, as he had been told to do.

A picture of a tall, very well-endowed woman appeared; she was winking at him suggestively as she writhed about. She also happened to be wearing no clothes whatsoever.

Harry's eyes widened comically, and he began breathing erratically. Blood rushed up to his face- he couldn't process what he was seeing.

"Oh, there you are Harry; it's so good to see you! The teachers were acting so strangely, and we won't be leaving for home today, and they wouldn't let us see you and we were so worried about you! Weren't we Ron?" Hermione had arrived, with Ron in tow.

"What? Oh yeah we were- is anything the matter, mate? Why is your face all red?" Ron asked him curiously.

"Err… err…" Harry stuttered, slamming the book shut and clutching it to his chest. What had his Godfather been thinking?! He was only eleven for Merlin's sake!

"Harry?" Hermione inquired, her eyes flicking from the book he was holding to his face, "What is that?"

"N-nothing, nothing important! I was just doing some light reading, for fun you know," Harry lied quickly.

"Since when do you read for pleasure?" Hermione asked him suspiciously.

Harry's face became even redder, if it were possible.

"Yeah, mate, are you sure you're okay?" Ron asked him concernedly, sitting down across from him. He began to pull platters of food towards him and piling various items on his plate, but he was still looking at Harry, waiting for an answer. Hermione sat down beside him, staring at Harry expectantly too.

Harry didn't know what to do, so he just thrust the letter his so called godfather had written to him towards them both in an attempt to divert their attention.

"What is this?" Hermione asked him, taking it from him.

"A letter," Harry told them, calming down somewhat, though his traitorous mind insisted on giving him flashbacks of the picture he'd just seen, "It's a letter from my godfather."

Both of them stared at him.

"Read it," Harry advised.

They didn't speak for a moment, giving Harry a chance to concentrate on his food and get his breathing under control.

"Is… someone having you on, Harry? This can't be real! Your Godfather is the next Dark Lord? What a load of hogwash," Hermione had read through the letter at top speed and was now looking at Harry with a frown on her face.

"I really don't know Hermione," Harry said with a small shrug of his shoulders, "Nobody ever told me I had a godfather. Whoever it is seems to be crazy. But then again he did send me a mirror and a book, so he must be serious about contacting me at any rate."

"You know, I've heard of Sirius Black before," Ron had finished the letter, and was now looking at both of them with an intent look on his face, "I heard stories about him growing up. He was one of You-Know-Who's most feared Death Eaters, but I never heard anything about him being your godfather. My dad said he killed thirteen Muggles and one wizard with a single curse. If whoever wrote you that letter is really Sirius Black, then you need to stay away from him mate, even if he claims he's innocent."

"Perhaps you should show this letter to Dumbeldore," Hermione suggested.

The Great Hall was gradually filling up, and their conversation was cut off as several Gryffindors arrived and greeted Harry, thumping him on the back and asking him if he was feeling better now.

"We'll talk about this later, guys," Harry said, after he'd repeatedly assured his house mates he was recovered. "I'm supposed to meet Dumbledore after breakfast, so I can show him the letter then."

"Okay, Harry, you do that" Hermione nodded enthusiastically.

"What do you think this delay is about anyway?" Ron asked him, changing the subject, "Hermione says something big must have happened, and I think she's right. But nobody is telling us anything."

"You know, now that I think about it," Hermione said slowly, before Harry could speak, and then she lowered her voice so that only the both of them could hear her, "Maybe this Sirius Black breaking out of Azkaban could be why they're not letting us go home now. They might want to arrange an alternate transportation method or something, or provide Aurors for the train."

"What? But why would Black come after us?" Harry asked her, confused.

"Harry…." Hermione hesitated, and then continued gently, "He might not come after us- he might come after _you_. If he was a Death Eater, he might, you know, want to finish what You-Know-Who started."

Harry stared at her. That thought had honestly never occurred to him.

Hermione was looking at him with a frown of concern, while Ron looked troubled.

Before Harry could reply, a hundred owls flew into the Great Hall, drowning out the sounds of conversation with the beating of their wings. They began to deliver letters, magazines and the Daily Prophet to the students.

Several of the older students that subscribed to the Daily Prophet, when they'd gotten the paper, gasped and began shouting at their friends excitedly, waving the paper under their noses.

"What's all the fuss about, you reckon?" Ron said, staring curiously at the older students at their table, and somehow managing to stuff a large piece of toast in his mouth at the same time.

"I don't know…Let me see if I can wrangle a copy of the Prophet from them," Hermione said, getting up quickly, her voice burning with curiosity, "And, Ron, don't talk when your mouth is full!" She said over her shoulder in an afterthought.

Ron muttered something less than flattering under his breath.

It took a while, but Hermione managed to wheedle a copy of the paper from Lee Jordan, Fred and George Weasley, who were presently occupying the center of the Gryffindor table and taking the mickey out of an older student. She was reading it intently as she came back and sat down, and didn't look up for a full minute until she had finished reading.

Harry and Ron knew better than to interrupt her by now- they both knew she wouldn't respond and they'd just be wasting their breath, so they just waited impatiently for her to finish.

"You should read this, you two" she said finally, frowning, gesturing at the front page.

She cleared a space on the table by shifting a couple of the serving platters and turned the paper so that both Harry and Ron could see the front page, which read in large, black letters: SIRIUS BLACK, NOTORIUS MASS MURDERER AND SUPPORTER OF THE DARK LORD, ESCAPES FROM AZKABAN. The article detailed how Sirius Black had, under mysterious circumstances, and, with the help of possibly the Dark Arts and the _Imperius _curse, escaped the top security prison, incapacitating two Aurors along the way. It was a feat no one had managed before. The article went on to give a short history about the man and the threat he posed to their society. The man, the article claimed, was believed to be insane, extremely dangerous and was making a bid to become the next Dark Lord. The Minister had imposed a National Emergency in response to the significant threat he posed and informed the Muggle Prime Minister about the situation; because the man had shown no qualms about murdering Muggles before. Readers were advised to stay away if they spotted anyone matching his description and contact the relevant authorities at once with the location. A large artist's rendition of the man, shown as having long black hair and savage grey eyes, accompanied the article.

Most of the front page was dedicated to the main story, but the bottom-right corner of the page bore another article that appeared to have been squeezed in, as if the regular print run had been stopped to have a piece of important news inserted. It was accompanied by a small moving photo, which depicted a sinister-looking symbol hovering over a Wizarding house.

The title read: MINISTRY OF MAGIC HEAD OF DEPARTMENT USED AS SACRIFICE FOR BLOOD RITUAL BY BLACK, followed by a smaller tagline: Is Sirius Black following He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's orders, even after the Dark Lord's death?

"Wow…," Harry trailed off, having finished reading the article a moment before Ron.

"Harry…"

"Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall had come up to the Gryffindor table and was speaking from behind him, "Professor Dumbledore is expecting you up in his office, so I suggest you don't dawdle if you're done with breakfast," she informed him.

"Oh, alright Professor, thanks," Harry said distractedly.

He slowly slipped the mirror and small book in his the pocket of his robes.

"I'll see you guys later," Harry said, getting up, exchanging significant looks with his friends. Hermione was looking really worried now, alternating glances between him and the Daily Prophet.

"You know how to find the office, don't you, Potter?" McGonagall asked him.

"Err, no professor," Harry said.

"It's on the third floor," McGonagall told him, "The entrance is guarded by a rather distinctive gargoyle statue, so finding it shouldn't be a problem. It will let you in if you give it the password, which is 'Ice Mice'."

Harry nodded in thanks.

"Don't forget to show him the letter Harry!" Hermione reminded him.

"Right, I won't" Harry replied, looking around for it.

Ron held it out to him, his eyes reflecting his concern. Harry took it, feeling self-conscious as McGonagall was watching the exchange curiously, though she didn't pry. He quickly left the Great Hall and headed towards the third floor.

* * *

"Ice Mice," Harry said to the ugly gargoyle statue.

The gargoyle grunted in a bad-tempered way and moved out of his way with a grinding noise, revealing a smooth stone staircase that spiraled upwards a way. Harry stepped on it hesitantly and let out a surprised yelp as it began to move upwards on its own.

The stairway deposited him before an ornate wooden door, on which Harry knocked hesitantly.

"Yes, Harry, my boy, come in please," Dumbledore's voice was warm and welcoming.

When he opened the door, Harry found himself inside a very fascinating room. The circular office was brightly lit, and full of odd furniture, items and instruments. A few of the more delicate looking ones were giving out small puffs of smoke and looked as if they would fall apart if Harry so much as breathed on them.

A magnificent bird, with a plumage of gold interspersed with crimson, was sitting on a perch in a corner of the room, staring at him curiously.

And behind a large, claw-footed desk, smiling benignly, sat Albus Dumbledore.

"Please, Harry, take a seat," Dumbledore gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

Harry sat down in the chair quickly, trying not to sneak too many glances at the beautiful bird, who was still staring at him in what appeared to be an appraising manner.

Dumbledore noticed his curiosity, "Fawkes, if you didn't know, is a phoenix, Harry."

"A phoenix? Oh… Is he your pet, then, professor?" Harry asked him curiously.

The phoenix trilled in an amused manner.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "No, my dear boy, he's not. He is more my companion than he is my familiar, truth be told. Phoenixes are vastly intelligent beings, and only consent to associate with wizards of their own free will- they cannot be bound in any way. Fawkes is only here because he wants to be, " Dumbledore informed him.

"I'm sorry if I offended you, Fawkes, I didn't mean to," Harry told the bird.

Fawkes trilled in a musical way and flapped his wings once- Harry took it to mean that he was forgiven.

He turned to Dumbledore, who was now surveying him calmly over his steepled fingers.

"Sir, you wished to see me today?" Harry inquired politely.

"I did, " Dumbledore replied, his expression unusually somber now, "Tell me, Harry, what do you know about Sirius Black?"

"Err…" Harry trailed off, going over the morning in his mind. He took a deep breath and told Dumbledore everything he'd heard about the man, and about the package he'd received at the Gryffindor table today.

"May I see this letter, Harry?" Dumbledore was frowning thoughtfully.

"Err… sure, professor," Harry replied, handing the letter to him.

Harry didn't have to wait long till Dumbledore had finished reading the letter, but Dumbledore merely closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair instead of saying anything to him.

"Err… professor? Do you think he's really innocent, as he claimed?" Harry asked him hesitantly, wondering if the man had forgotten his presence when he didn't speak for a long time.

Dumbledore opened his eyes and looked at him. He seemed to debate something with himself before he responded, "Truthfully, I cannot say. He never had a trial, so it may be possible- though it's very unlikely."

"But…but why didn't he get a trial, Professor?!" Harry asked him, shocked.

Dumbledore sighed, looking suddenly old and pensive, "It happened after Voldemort… died, for the lack of a better term. It was not a happy time, you see, after the initial euphoria his defeat engendered died-down. His followers, the Death Eaters, floundered without his presence. Several were captured, but not before they caused significant damage to our world- their final acts of defiance, if you would. The Ministry at that time, for all intents and purposes, was being run by Bartemius Crouch, the head of Magical Law Enforcement- even if he wasn't actually the Minister. He saw it fit to throw many of those he considered to be Death Eaters straight into Azkaban, though he did give a few among them a trial. The Ministry was still recovering, and they simply didn't have enough resources to give everyone a trial, you – and many simply didn't feel the need to. The Wizarding world can be blind upon occasion, Harry, if you must know…"

"But how could he be sure that everyone was, in fact, a Death Eater?" Harry asked him, thinking about his godfather's letter and his claim of being innocent.

"And that is the crux of the matter, Harry," Dumbledore replied heavily, "He couldn't have been sure- he had to use his best judgment. It was war, and, as much as it pains me to say it, there is little place for civilized ideals like trials during wartime. He did what he thought best- he is not a bad man, even if what he did may appear unforgivable to some. And he is a fair man- he even sentenced his own son to Azkaban when he found out that he was a Death Eater."

"His own son was a Death Eater?" Harry stared, struggling to absorb all the information that was being foisted on him.

"Indeed," Dumbledore murmured, now staring off at a spot to the right and above Harry's head.

One look at the headmaster convinced him that he wouldn't say anything anymore on the subject.

"Professor, Sirius wants to talk to me…" Harry said finally, after the silence had stretched out again.

Dumbledore looked at him, and this time his gaze was piercing, "And what do you think you should do, Harry?"

"Err… I don't know professor. I reckon I shouldn't, right?"

"He used the _Imperius _curse on an Auror, Harry, while escaping, " Dumbledore said gently, "It's a curse that can control people, take over their minds completely, make them kill their own friends and family if the caster wishes it. It's referred to as an Unforgivable Curse, it carries a life sentence in Azkaban if it's used, and it's one of the darkest curses in existence."

"I guess I shouldn't talk to him then, professor," Harry said quietly. The sense of hope Harry had been nursing since the morning dissipated against the harsh light of reality, "But, sir, is he my godfather, as he claimed?" Harry asked him, a little forlorn.

"Alas yes, he is indeed your godfather, my boy. It is not common knowledge, but it is true, " Dumbledore said wearily

"But if he's innocent, then…" Harry said, hoping against hope.

"Even if he was innocent, Harry, he's innocent no longer. Did you perchance happen read today's Daily Prophet, my boy? He performed a Dark Ritual on a Ministry employee – Bartemius Crouch, the same man who threw him into Azkaban. He tore the magic from the man, and he may never recover. I tell you this not to scare you, but to keep you on your guard."

Harry's face fell.

"I'm very sorry, my boy," Dumbledore said, the twinkle faded entirely from his eyes, "but you must take comfort in the fact that there are other people in the world who love you and care for you truly."

Harry nodded mutely, looking at his lap. He was feeling unusually cynical and wondering who these people might be. Apart from his friends, Ron and Hermione, he knew he didn't have anyone who truly cared for him- they only cared about his stupid scar.

Fawkes trilled from the side, as if to comfort him- and, indeed, his musical cry soothed him somewhat.

"Would you care for a lemon drop, my boy?" Dumbledore asked him kindly, trying to cheer him up.

Harry shrugged. Dumbledore offered him a tin jar and Harry took one, popping it into his mouth, making a face at the tangy flavor.

"Harry, the Minister of Magic, and many within the Ministry, are concerned that Sirius might try to harm you or kidnap you," Dumbledore said quietly, after a brief silence, "Certainly, he has shown that he has an interest in you by sending you a letter…"

"Is that why you postponed our departure, Professor?" Harry asked him with a frown.

"Precisely, my boy. The Ministry will be sending a group of Aurors to guard the Hogwarts Express tomorrow."

"So we are leaving tomorrow?" Harry asked him, disappointed that he wouldn't be able to stay at Hogwarts longer.

"Yes, my boy. You, however, will be Apparated home by an Auror."

"I'm not supposed to take the Express?" Harry asked, dismayed.

"I'm afraid so. Madam Bones, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, is hoping that Black tries to attack the train and the Aurors can capture him. It will be safer for you if you aren't there if that happens."

There was a polite knock on the door that interrupted their conversation.

"Come in, Mr. Lupin," Dumbledore said serenely, though an odd look flashing across his face, so quickly that Harry wasn't sure if it had been there in the first place.

Harry swiveled around in his chair curiously just as the door opened. A man with a much-lined face and greying hair entered the office. He was wearing threadbare robes that looked as if they had seen better days- much, much better days. He stopped and stared when he caught sight of Harry- though his eyes never once flicked up to his scar, which surprised him somewhat.

Strangers were always staring at his scar and not his face.

"You look exactly like James did at your age," the man said quietly. He had kind eyes and a quiet, and Harry felt drawn to the man almost immediately.

"You…you knew my father?" Harry asked him, surprised.

"Yes, I was one of his best friends in school… and I knew your mother too," Remus replied, smiling at him kindly.

"Mr. Lupin, would you care to take a seat?" Dumbledore interrupted politely.

"Thank you, Professor," Remus said, walking forward and slipping into the comfortable chair beside Harry's.

"Harry, is there anything else you wished to ask me, my boy?" Dumbledore said, turning to Harry, his blue eyes twinkling merrily.

"Uh… No, professor," Harry said reluctantly, getting up from his seat. He recognized a dismissal when he saw one.

"Then I will see you next year. Have a good summer, then, my boy," Dumbledore said affably.

"Yes sir, you too," Harry said, turning to go, but not before he took a quick peek at the strange man in the chair next to him. The man gave him a shadow of a wink and half a smile, almost as if he knew something Harry didn't.

"Oh, and Harry, do you mind handing me the book and the mirror your godfather sent you before you go?"

Harry started, tearing his gaze away from Remus, "Oh right… no, I mean yes of course, professor, here you are."

Harry placed the requested items on the desk- somewhat reluctantly, to his surprise- and then turned and walked out of the office, aware that two sets of eyes were staring intently at his back as he walked out.

* * *

Harry was making his way up to the Gryffindor common room deep in thought. Who was that man he'd just met in Dumbledore's office? He'd known his parents? Would he see him again?

Just as he rounded a corner, a hand shot out and pulled him backwards, straight through a tapestry. The tapestry had opened automatically, like a giant mouth, and closed behind him.

"AAA…" he began to scream in panic, before a large hand clamped over his mouth, cutting off his cry.

"Shh, Harry, it's us-" the familiar voice of one of the Weasley twins whispered in his ear.

"-we wanted you to see this," the also familiar voice of other Weasley twin whispered in his other ear.

"Mmmm…Mmmmfff…"

"Oh, right, sorry," Fred said, removing his hand from Harry's mouth, not sounding sorry at all.

"See what?" Harry asked them suspiciously, backing away a step, glancing around to orient himself, "Is this some kind of a prank?"

They were in what appeared to be a small tunnel that had barely enough room for three boys. The tapestry covered the entrance to the tunnel, so the only light came from the one of the twin's wand.

They stared at him with identical looks of surprise on their face.

"Pranking?" The twin who was probably Fred asked him, a hurt look on his face.

"Us?!"

"Fred?" Fred looked at his twin.

"George." George nodded at him.

They both turned to Harry.

"You wound us-"

"with your suspicions my friend. When have we-"

"-ever indulged in that vaunted art?"

"In fact, we believe we are not worthy-"

"-of even calling ourselves jokers, let alone pranksters."

"And why would we prank-"

"-such a teeny tiny ickle firstie like you?" Fred said, ruffling Harry's hair.

"Even we-"

"-wouldn't stoop so low."

"Very funny, guys," Harry said, rolling his eyes, shoving Fred's hand away, "Now if that's all…"

"No, it's not. Come here, see this," Fred whispered in a more serious tone, indicating a battered looking parchment in his hand, "And keep your voice down."

Harry obediently stood beside the twin that was probably Fred, looking down at a parchment in his hands. His eyes widened. Fred was holding a map of Hogwarts, and it was amazingly detailed. It even detailed what appeared to be passages leading out of Hogwarts, and it showed several areas of the castle that Harry hadn't even known existed. Hundreds of small dots were moving around the map, and it took a moment for Harry to make out that the map was showing all people who were inside the castle.

"This is just… wow," Harry said slowly. "Did you guys make this?" Harry asked them, impressed.

"No, as flattered as we are that you think we did-"

"-we cannot claim the credit for this. It was made by the great Marauders, a long, long time ago," George finished.

"Who are the Marauders?" Harry said curiously.

"They are our heroes," Fred said, eyes misting over.

"They are our inspiration-"

"-our motivation."

"They are everything we want to be-" George said longingly.

"-everything we're not-yet."

"Indeed, twin of mine, yet."

"We made an oath in our first year, to keep their legacy alive-"

"-until our dying die."

"So they're pranksters then?" Harry asked them, struggling to keep up.

"They were the greatest pranksters Hogwarts has ever seen," George said solemnly, "Their deeds are forever immortalized in the annals of Hogwarts history."

"What annals? Why haven't I ever heard of them before then?" Harry asked him skeptically.

"Because few are allowed to see the punishment records Filch maintains in his office," Fred responded promptly.

"Also, because you're such a goody two shoes, you haven't found the caches they've placed all over Hogwarts for us lesser pranksters to find, to help us in our quest to make Hogwarts a more exciting place, " George said.

"Lesser pranksters…Who'd have thought you guys could be modest," Harry muttered, "And I'm not a goody two shoes!"

"We're getting sidetracked, twin of mine."

"Right you are twin. Here, you see this dot, Harry, beside our dots?" Fred said, pointing.

"Nymphadora Tonks," Harry read. "And who is that?"

"That is a very good question, Harrikins."

"Here, now, take a peek out into the corridor," Fred said, parting the tapestry slightly so that a slit opened, "And be careful, don't let… her spot you."

Harry peeked out into the corridor and stared. It was the man who had been guarding the doors to the Hospital Wings earlier. It was the first time he'd really been able to look at him. He was tall and had an unmemorable face, and was wearing unremarkable black robes that almost matched the Hogwarts uniform. He looked young enough to be a seventh year, but Harry was sure he hadn't seen him at the castle before.

"…have sworn that he walked through here," the man muttered, staring down the hallway. He tried to draw his wand from his pocket, but it somehow slipped from his fingers and dropped to the floor, where it emitted a loud bang and a flash of light and went rolling away rapidly. The man ran after it, almost tripping over his robes, cursing.

"Isn't Nymphadora Tonks a girls' name?" Harry asked them, letting the tapestry cover the tunnel again, confused.

"Yes, it is." Fred confirmed, now poking his head out of the secret passageway and staring after the man.

"I don't understand," Harry said, even more confused.

"You see, Harry, we've had a lot of time on our hands, because they delayed our departure-"

"We are never ones to waste time, because we firmly believe that-"

"-an empty mind is a devil's workshop. Well said, twin of mine." George nodded approvingly.

Harry merely snorted, "And how does this answer my question?"

"Patience is a virtue, Harrikins. Anyway, as I was saying, we couldn't help but notice today that-"

"-you were being followed by a person called Nymphadora Tonks when you went down to the Great Hall, and then later when you walked up to the Headmaster's office."

"Wait, are you spying on me?" Harry spluttered.

"Now, we know Tonks, you see, at least in passing," Fred continued, as if he hadn't heard him.

"Yes, we do. She graduated from Hogwarts a year ago. She was wildly popular and in Hufflepuff," George said.

"But that's a man who's following me, and not a woman, " Harry said, confused, "The map must be wonky or something."

"Oh no, the map is fine- it's just that Tonks is a Metamorphmagus."

"A meta… what?"

"A Metamorphmagus is a person who can change their appearance at will-"

"-and their gender, too, apparently."

"Blimey," Harry said, impressed and not a little freaked-out.

"The map never lies, you see- if that map says it's her, it's her."

"So why would she be back here?"

"And why would she be following you?"

"I mean you're a little young for her, even if you're the Boy-Who-Lived-"

"-and she's not exactly the stalker type."

"Err… I don't know guys," Harry said, frowning, ignoring their ribbing. "I'm pretty sure she was guarding the doors to the Hospital Wing earlier. Thanks for telling me all this, by the way… So maybe we should just go ask her, or is it him, why she's following me? She's not dangerous or anything, is she?"

The twins looked at each other, surprised.

"Now why didn't we-"

"-think of that?"

"And she's not dangerous, Harry," Fred scoffed, "She was in Hufflepuff after all."

* * *

"Mr. Lupin… Remus, it is good to see after all this time," Albus Dumbledore said serenely. "What can I do for you?" Dumbledore was curious as to why Remus was here in his office, though he had an inkling.

He'd last seen the man a decade ago, just after Sirius had been thrown into Azkaban. Time hadn't been kind to him- his hair had greyed prematurely and his face was lined- the loss of all his friends, his entire support structure and family, had hit him very hard.

Dumbledore had heard little about the man over the years- but he wasn't surprised to find that the recent disturbance caused by Sirius' escape had been enough to draw him out of the woodwork. Perhaps he wanted vengeance, or justice. Dumbledore's heart went out to the man.

Remus' eyes were happy enough, though, and his smile was genuine when he replied, "It is good to see you too, Albus. As to why I'm here, I heard that there was an opening in the staff here at Hogwarts again…" Remus trailed off, looking at Dumbledore inquiringly.

"There was, but I'm afraid that I found someone to occupy the position already, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said calmly, thinking of Gilderoy Lockhart, holding back a wince. There wasn't any way to cancel the contract now – he'd jumped at the chance to hire a Defense teacher for the coming year, happy that someone was willing to take the job even after that fiasco with Quirrell.

"Oh," Remus said, disappointed, "Well, I'd hoped…it was a fool's hope. Well, thank you for seeing me, Albus, I'm sorry for wasting your time."

"Remus, wait, please," Dumbledore stopped him, "I'm assuming that you're here looking for a job because you heard Sirius escaped? Do you wish to rejoin the Wizarding world?"

Remus hesitated, a myriad of emotions flashing across his face. "Partly, Albus, partly… And I know Harry is here now… I was hoping I could get to know him a little, you know, though I'm not sure he'll want to get to know me after all this time," Remus said quietly.

Dumbledore smiled at him, his blue eyes twinkling, "I'm sure he's looking forward to meeting you already, Remus. It was a fortuitous coincidence that you arrived just when he was meeting with me."

Remus nodded, his face bearing an odd look, "I suppose."

"I'm sorry I cannot offer the position to you this year, my friend, but I'll hold the position for you next year- if you're still interested, that is. Lockhart has agreed to be on staff for a year only, and we'll be looking for a replacement when the next school year comes rolling in."

"You would hold it for me?" Remus asked him, surprised, "Even if I'm a werewolf? I was expecting you to let me down gently, truth be told."

"And why would I do that, my boy?" Dumbledore asked him, his eyes twinkling, "You are more than qualified for the position, if I remember correctly, and I'm sure you will make a great teacher."

"The Board of Directors may not like it," Remus remarked, slightly bitter.

Dumbledore merely smiled, "I repeat, the post will be waiting for you next year."

"Thank you, Albus," Remus said, honestly overwhelmed.

Dumbledore spared a glance at the door- the castle had informed him that an irate Potion's professor was about to barge in, no doubt because he'd read the day's Daily Prophet. He'd be even more incensed to see Remus sitting in his office.

It was turning out to be one of those days… Dumbledore let out a small sigh- perhaps it really was time to retire, as Sirius' letter had advised. Dumbledore knew he couldn't, though- not yet, when there was still so much to be done.

"Albu-" Remus began, just as the door behind him banged open.

"Headmaster, why wasn't I informed about this?!" Severus Snape spat out as he stormed inside, waving the Daily Prophet he was clutching threateningly, looking darkly intimidating in his black robes that billowed behind him. He saw who was sitting at the Headmaster's desk a second later, and his free hand twitched towards his wand, before it stilled. A murderous expression appeared on his face at the same time, but it disappeared quickly and his face settled into an impassive mask. "What is he doing here?" he inquired in a quietly dangerous voice.

"Don't mind me, Sni…Severus," Remus corrected hastily, cursing Sirius mentally for making the word Snivellus stick in his mouth again. Snape's eyes darkened in response, as if he'd guessed what he'd been about to say, and he began to ground his teeth. "Err…I was just leaving. It was good seeing you, Albus…and you too, Severus," Remus said, trying to sound sincere.

Snape's hand twitched towards his wand again before he controlled himself. He leveled what could only be termed as a death-glare at Remus.

"Remus, wait, before you go… Has he tried to contact you?" Dumbledore asked him as he made his way toward the door, gingerly stepping around an enraged Snape.

All of them knew who he was referring to.

Remus looked back at him, and nodded after a moment, choosing not to lie to the one man who'd always placed so much faith in him, "He did contact me. He claimed to be innocent." Remus was aware that Snape was now scowling darkly from behind him.

"And do you believe him?" Dumbledore asked him calmly.

Remus nodded slowly, "I believe him."

Dumbledore nodded, as if it had confirmed some suspicion of his, "Thank you, Remus- that is all I wanted to know."

"I will be seeing you soon, Albus," Remus replied, then walked out the door.

The two remaining men in the office stared at each other for a long moment.

"Well?" Snape said waspishly.

"Yes, my boy?" Dumbledore asked him, his eyes twinkling.

"Aren't you going to ask him anything else? Like if he knows where _Black_," he said the name as if it was a horrible disease, "is hiding? He may even be helping him, for all we know."

"He could be," Dumbledore said serenely, "And I suspect he is."

"Then why didn't you do anything?" Snape asked him with a scowl "Then Black would be back in Azkaban, which is where that bastard belongs- and let the wolf join him there."

"I know Remus well enough to say that he won't turn on his friend now, even under extreme duress," Dumbledore said calmly, "It wouldn't do to press him for information now. From his demeanor, I don't believe that he thinks Sirius is a threat to Harry, and I will trust his judgment in this matter- he knows his old friend better than anyone, I'm sure. Sirius, I believe now, has merely strayed from the right path. Azkaban may have affected his mind, but he can be healed. He may not yet be beyond redemption…"

"So that's it? You want to give him a second chance?" Snape said incredulously.

Dumbledore merely smiled at him serenely.

"And why wasn't I informed about all this sooner?" Snape asked him, waving the Daily Prophet at him again, scowling still.

"Because I was afraid you wouldn't take the news well, my boy," Dumbledore informed him calmly, "You would have been in a foul mood, and it would have affected the students needlessly."

Snape said nothing, choosing not to dispute the statement.

"Severus, I believe you should take a vacation, my boy."

"What?" Severus asked him incredulously, "You want me to take a vacation?"

"Yes," Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling.

"I will not," Snape told him in a dangerous voice. "I don't want a vacation and I don't need a vacation. I have an international Potions conference that I wish to attend this summer anyway."

"I will arrange for you to view a memory of it, if you should so wish."

"It's not the same," he snapped.

"It will do you good, my boy, to be out and about" Dumbledore said calmly, "I'm afraid we're on the brink of a war, or perhaps a time of great change, and we all may well be swept away by the tide. You may not have a chance later… I have a friend who owns a house near a beach, I'm sure he wouldn't mind you borrowing it for a few weeks."

"You're serious," Snape said quietly, staring at him.

Dumbledore nodded, his eyes meeting Snape's for a long moment. Something passed between the two men.

"Then I will consider it," Snape said finally. He turned and swept out of the office, still in a foul mood but in better control of himself. Dumbledore had given him much to think about.

Dumbledore smiled, pleased. That had gone better than he'd thought it would.

He looked down and picked up the book Harry had left behind.

"_The Dark Arts Unleashed_" he read, tracing his finger over the title. It was a familiar book, a classic, though it was hard to come by today because of the recent Ministry blanket ban on all books that were even remotely related to the Dark Arts. It was a good book, though, informative without being dark- it was a book he'd read it himself as a teenager.

He turned to the last page, curious as to what present Sirius could have sent Harry. It couldn't be a Dark enchantment, for the Hogwarts wards wouldn't have let the owl through the wards. He tapped his wand on the page; an unclothed, buxom woman appeared, and began winking at him.

Dumbledore stared for a long moment, amused, "Perhaps you haven't changed that much, after all, Sirius," he muttered.

Dumbledore closed the book and sat back in his chair, thinking.

After a moment, he wandlessly summoned a sheaf of parchment from a table towards him. He stared at the series of numbers that covered all the pages from top to bottom, his eyes leaping about the page, as if tracing random patterns in his mind. He then began shuffling between the pages, murmuring quietly to himself all the while.

He picked up a quill, withdrew a blank parchment from his desk and began to write, filling it out with sets of numbers that seemed to make sense to him. He frowned at the parchment when he was done.

A new pattern had been emerging this last week, and his Arithmancy, for the first time in more than a century, was proving to be unreliable and hopelessly erratic.

His keen mind, his prodigious talent at Arithmancy and his small talent at Divination- all three combined together- had seen him safely through several decades of upheaval and strife. It was one of the reasons why he'd gained a reputation for knowing everything that happened around him, for always being calm and in control. He'd even managed to calculate a pattern a few years ago that, if followed, would lead to the defeat of Voldemort- even if it would mean that he, Dumbledore, would have to die in a few years at the hands of his Potions Master.

Dumbledore did not fear death- he would welcome it if it would mean Harry's victory and Tom Riddle's defeat.

But now, his old calculations no longer applied. He could no longer see the future clearly- it was in a constant state of flux. He would have to visit Septima and discuss the changing pattern with her- the young witch was brilliant, after all, in the field of her expertise and she would perhaps have some suggestions for him that would help.

He picked up a parchment he'd laid aside earlier and looked at it for a long time. The sole stabilized pattern he'd calculated this week had suggested that his Potion's Master should be urged on a vacation to the Canary Islands, Spain- for no reason he could accurately pinpoint.

"What have you done, Sirius, my boy, what have you done?" Dumbledore sighed quietly.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: **Lots of thanks to Lupinesence, Cherrie-san, Zicou, Linda and RereMcFluffles for your reviews! Thank you everyone else for following, favoriting and just reading.

Hope you enjoy the story.

**Chapter 5: Preparations **

Sirius chewed on his ham and cheese sandwich contentedly, lingering for a long moment on the flavorful taste of the meat on his tongue. After eating nothing more than gruel and the occasional rat as Padfoot for so long in Azkaban, everything he now ate, even the simplest of things, were enough to give him an, oral, orgasm.

He was sitting high up on a branch of a very tall Douglas fir, his legs dangling down on either side, his back to the trunk. He was wearing an old Muggle t-shirt and jeans that he'd borrowed from Remus. He didn't mind the clothes- he'd always been comfortable in Muggle clothing, despite him being a Pureblood. The clothes fit him well enough, thin as he was.

He was just staring out into the countryside, humming quietly under his breath. The wind ruffled his hair, and birds flitted about the forest around him, chirping.

He'd been sitting there since the morning. He could feel his magic recovering slowly ever since he'd performed the Blood Ritual. Already, his spells were coming out stronger- but it would be a while before his magic was back to its old strength.

Sirius felt the wards he'd erected around his campsite earlier twinge as they let Remus in. He stared down at him from his vantage point.

"Sirius, where are you? Sirius, I talked to Dumbledore… Sirius! Sirius?"

Sirius took aim with his wand and shot a Stinging Hex down at him through the gap in the branches.

"Ouch! What the- how did you get up there?! Get down here, you idiot, before you break your foolish neck!" Remus' voice drifted up to him, faint to his ears.

Sirius sighed regretfully. It was time. He polished off his sandwich and _Incendiod_ the wrapping. He then swung his leg over the branch and let himself fall a hundred feet to the ground. The ground rushed up to him, the wind whistling in his ears, his surroundings blurring around him.

He wondered, for a brief second, what it'd be like to crash into the ground. Would it hurt too badly, or would the shock of impact kill him too quickly?

He, almost regretfully, pointed his wand at himself and thought,"_Arresto Momentum". _

His fall slowed, until he was barely moving, and he landed gently on his feet, on a thick carpet of grass.

Remus was staring at him, white-faced, "You…You…Don't do that again, ever. I thought, for a moment… I mean it, Padfoot, don't you dare do that again."

Sirius rolled his eyes, "I promise not to kill myself without telling you first, Remus."

Remus stared at him, "I swear, it feels more and more like I'm being asked to babysit a five year old with a death wish."

Sirius made a face at him.

"Did you get the job?" Sirius asked him pointedly.

"No, Dumbledore's already hired someone," Remus said regretfully, "But he did say I can come back next year."

"Next year isn't soon enough," Sirius grimaced, "Did you find out who the Defense teacher was this year then?"

"Yeah, I did, and I didn't even have to ask outright- Dumbledore let slip Lockhart was the new Defense teacher when we were talking."

"Lockhart?" Sirius frowned, "That little fop who was in Hufflepuff in second year when we graduated? The one we pranked a couple of times, who couldn't take it and broke down crying both times like a little girl? And didn't he wet his pants too the second time?"

Remus gave him a nod of confirmation.

"They're letting him be the Defense teacher?" Sirius said with a raised eyebrow, "Does he even know which end of a wand is which? Damn, Hogwarts really went downhill since we left if they're letting ninnies like him teach…"

"Don't be so quick to judge," Remus told him. He rummaged around in the small bag he was carrying and threw him a book, "I just bought that. I asked around about him, and turns out he's very well known."

Sirius caught it automatically and glanced at the cover. He stared. A handsome Wizard he vaguely recognized was winking at him and smiling winningly- as if he, Sirius, was a damsel in distress and Lockhart his knight in shining armor. "Wandering with Werewolves" was emblazoned on it in shining golden letters. Sirius gagged.

Sirius turned the book around, "Follow Gilderoy Lockhart, Wizard Extraordinaire, on a perilous journey to Magical Austria, where he heroically battles to save a village from a crazed, feral Werewolf that has terrorized the Wachau valley for generations…"

"What is this shit, a bedtime story for three year olds?" Sirius scoffed, tossing the book aside carelessly, ignoring Remus' outraged look.

"It's all true, Sirius! He's published a bunch of other award-winning books too- he's battled horrendous monsters and helped save a lot of people all over the world," Remus informed him hotly, "He's changed a lot since we knew him."

"My ass he's changed- nobody changes that much. The only thing that's changed about him is his sexual orientation. He barely scraped through first year, if I remember right, " Sirius scowled.

"He's won several awards, and not just for writing books" Remus argued. "Besides, Dumbledore has hired him to be the Defense teacher."

"Awards which nobody even cares about, I bet," Sirius scoffed, "Also, it's _Dumbledore_. He hired Voldemort to be the Defense teacher."

Remus had to concede the point, but he did it with bad grace, muttering, "Lockhart can't be all bad-"

"And Dumbledore has Snivellus teaching Potions, not to mention his bad hygiene habits, to the poor Hogwarts students-"

"I'm sure Sni…Severus is a good teacher, Sirius-"

"And Dumbledore is hiring _you_ to be the Defense teacher next year," Sirius finished.

"Hey! Bugger off, Padfoot!" Remus exclaimed.

"I don't care how bad or good he is- he's in our way," Sirius told him, "He has to go."

Remus sighed, "If you really think so…"

"I do," Sirius said firmly.

"Fine, then. Do I want to know what you're planning on doing to him?"

"Don't worry; nothing too extreme, unless, of course, he keeps smiling at me like that," Sirius growled, scowling darkly and pointing at the book. Lockhart was still grinning at him, unfazed, showing off his designer pearly whites. Sirius was tempted to fire an _Incendio _spell at the book and watch it burn, but it wasn't worth it- Remus would bite his head off and irritate him all morning if he did that.

The sunlight glinted off the golden letters of the title.

Sirius glanced at it and then stared off into the distance, thinking.

Then, after a moment, he glanced at Remus speculatively. Remus was in the process of picking up the book from where Sirius had tossed it and dusting off the cover.

"He likes to wander with werewolves, now, does he?" Sirius mused aloud.

Remus caught him staring, and slowly his expression changed, from one of confusion and curiosity to panic and horror as his friend's words finally registered in his mind, "Sirius, whatever you are thinking, I'm not doing it!" he exclaimed in panic.

"Thinking what, Remmy?" Sirius said innocently.

"No, no, no and no."

"But-"

"NO. That's final," Remus said backing away.

"Rem-" Sirius began, but was cut off.

"N O, no," Remus spelled out loudly, drawing his wand, ready to hex his best friend.

"Alright, Remus, alright," Sirius said consolingly, "Let's talk about other things then, shall we?"

Remus glared at him suspiciously, but Sirius just grinned at him, trying his best to look innocent. After a moment Remus nodded his assent and lowered his wand.

"Did you meet Harry too?" Sirius asked him.

"Yeah, I did, but only in passing. He went up to Dumbledore's office, as you thought he would. I followed him there."

"And he gave the book and mirror to Dumbledore?" Sirius inquired.

"Yeah, he did. But the Extra Sensory Charm we placed on the mirror isn't working now, I checked. Dumbledore's office is too well warded."

"Don't worry about that, I didn't really think it'd work. We have other ways to spy on Dumbledore, anyway," Sirius said dismissively.

Remus stared, "We do? What are they?"

Sirius smiled, "Never you mind, you'll find out soon enough."

Remus frowned disapprovingly, "Do you really think all this is necessary, Padfoot?"

"That bloody old codger has sunk his claws into my godson already," Sirius replied, scowling, "I want to know what his intentions are towards him; so yeah, it's necessary alright.

"It's not all that bad," Remus said with a roll of his eyes, "Dumbledore isn't out to harm Harry, he just wants to help him."

"There's all kinds of harm, Rem," Sirius argued, "I don't want my godson to grow up to be a modest, puritanical, saintly, old-man worshipping do-gooder who believes it's his duty to off Voldemort and help the Wizarding world out of every hole they manage to dig themselves into."

"Harry, from what I've heard about him, and from what I've seen of him, is not the sort to be led about or influenced unduly, Sirius," Remus said quietly, "He may look like James, but he has Lily's heart. He will not be changed easily- not by Dumbledore, and not by you. He will do what he thinks is right- that's just who he is."

Sirius scowled, "He's eleven- he's a kid. He doesn't have to do what's right, or even think about what's right."

Remus frowned at him, "Tell me, Sirius, if _you_ were a kid at eleven."

"That's different," Sirius ground out, "My family –may they enjoy their stay in hell- made me grow up early."

"And Harry is the Boy-Who-Lived," Remus replied pointedly, "who has faced Voldemort once already, on his own, and come out on top. He's also an orphan, Pad, and you, better than most, know what that means. So no, he's not a kid, not in the way you are thinking. Don't let your emotions blind you to reality. He's not going to like it if you tell him what to do."

"Fine," Sirius growled, looking as if he'd just swallowed a lemon, "Fine, I get it. Let Harry do whatever he wants to do. I'll just sit on the sidelines and watch him get himself killed following Doubledorks orders. Merlin I should have stayed in Azkaban…"

"No, Sirius, you know that's not what I meant! Trust in Harry, believe in him and help him when he needs it. He may make mistakes, but remember that he is James' and Lily's son-and that he will pull through in the end…"

Sirius sighed, and closed his eyes. He didn't speak for a full minute.

"And he's my godson too," he muttered quietly, and then met his best friend's eyes, "Perhaps you're right, after all, Moony... Since when did you get all deep and wise?"

"Since two of my friends died, the third vanished and the fourth managed to land his stinking ass in Azkaban," Remus replied, counting off on his fingers, and then continued dryly, "And then I had to live with myself for a decade, without a girlfriend and a social life of any kind, and took to reading Potions Quarterly in front of a fire on a Saturday night."

Sirius rolled his eyes, "Damn it, Rem, that wasn't even remotely funny. We've got to find you a new sense of humor while I take over the Wizarding world. And a girlfriend, too, while we're at it…"

"I wasn't trying to be funny," Remus muttered, and continued morosely, "And no, no girlfriends, Sirius. You know how I feel about that."

Sirius sighed, rolled his eyes again, and clapped him on his back once in a gesture of comfort. He then looked at him inquiringly.

Remus smiled and nodded, once, to show that he was okay.

Sirius conjured a pair of glitzy-looking lounge chairs for them to sit on, placing them side by side in the grassy clearing. Remus sank down gratefully, and Sirius, too, sat down beside him after a moment. He summoned two bottles of beer for them from his tent and handed one to his friend.

Both of them just stared off into the forest for several minutes, neither of them speaking.

"So I can't just kidnap my godson and take him far, far away from here right?" Sirius asked him finally.

"No."

"Right, right, just checking…I suppose I'll just send Harry letters this summer, then," Sirius said, "Wait for him to reply. He has to be curious about me…"

"You do that, Pad," Remus said, sipping at the beer and making a face, "I'll write to him, too. If he doesn't respond to you, then maybe I can build a relationship with him and vouch for you."

"Thanks, Remus," Sirius said, touched.

Remus nodded.

"Did you contact the Muggle agent?" Sirius asked him.

"Yeah," Remus replied. "He's rented you a Muggle villa- you can go stay there in five days time. Here," Remus rummaged around in his bag and pulled out a few sheets of papers and a receipt, "see the details for yourself. Oh, he also said you can pick up the keys once you get there. And I picked up today's Daily Prophet… reckon you'll get a laugh out of it…"

Sirius took the items and glanced through them absently. At least the Black Family silver he'd stowed in his trunk had proven good for something.

He sniggered when read the headline in the Daily Prophet.

"Would you look at that? I'm a famous mass murderer," Sirius grinned, "I love the drawing- I look awesome."

"Somehow I just knew you'd say that" Remus muttered.

Sirius just snorted.

Sirius put the Prophet down and glanced sideways at his best friend, "Thanks, Moony, you know, for all of this… for everything… I couldn't have done any of this without you."

Remus smiled wanly at him, "And don't you forget it."

There was a moment's companionable silence.

"When's the next full moon, by the way?"

"In exactly a week," Remus replied promptly.

"Okay," Sirius nodded easily.

"Why?" Remus looked at him suspiciously.

"Oh, so I can keep you company, you know, as Padfoot… I miss the old days…" Sirius replied, not quite meeting his friend's eyes.

"Oh… Yeah… Yeah, we can do that…"

There was another moment's companionable silence.

"You don't happen to know where Lockhart lives, do ya?" Sirius inquired casually.

It wasn't casual enough, apparently, "MERLIN'S BALLS, I SAID NO SIRIUS! Damn you, you… you stupid, stinking, hairy, insane goofball! Damn you!" Remus screamed, chucking his beer bottle at Sirius's head.

* * *

"She standing next to the portrait, probably keeping an eye on the Gryffindor common room," Fred whispered to them. "I think she's under a disillusionment charm or something, cause I couldn't see her when I looked. Let's surprise her, get her to scream a little," the Weasley twin grinned evilly.

"Surprise her how?" Harry asked him, unsure.

"Don't you worry your tiny noggin over it, mate," Fred said with a glance at his twin, who gave him a double thumbs-up, "Just stay back and let the pros handle this one."

"I have a bad feeling about this," Harry told him.

"Relax, we'll all get a good laugh out of this. She's an easy prank victim- she's an ex-Hufflepuff, remember?" George assured him.

"I still have a bad feeling about this." Harry said stubbornly.

"You don't have to do anything," Fred told patiently, "As George said, just stand back and enjoy the fireworks."

Fred gestured to his twin and began to whisper in his ear. George grinned wickedly and nodded.

Fred and George strode off boldly down the corridor, which was empty at the moment, with Harry trailing behind them, wondering if he should warn their unsuspecting prank victim. But then again, Fred and George were never really hateful in their pranks, so he didn't really feel obligated to intervene.

Fred passed the spot where Nymphadora was supposed to be standing, and sniffed loudly, making a gagging sound, "Twin of mine, that smell-"

George sniffed, and made a face, "You're right, oh brother of mine. It's strong-"

Fred drew closer to the spot where Nymphadora was supposed to be standing, still sniffing, "This spot, Merlin; it stink horribly."

George scooted closer, "You're right, twin… it's the stink of… of… _Hufflepuff_!"

"We should wipe this goody-goody Hufflepuff stench, you reckon?" Fred asked George.

"Too right, we should- who knows when Filch will get around to cleaning it."

Both of them whipped out their wands and pointed it at the wall, and shouted, "_Scourgify."_

"WHAAA-"

There was a shimmer in the air and a moment later the man they had all seen earlier appeared. He was coughing up soap spuds, and his face was so red it appeared as if it had been scrubbed with a brush. His robes appeared to be so clean they almost shined.

He began scowling at the two mischief mongers, who were currently clutching at each other, laughing uproariously. As Harry watched, the man slowly changed into a cute-looking young woman of no more than eighteen. She had a heart-shaped face and hair that was as red as her face.

"You…and you!" She spluttered, "How dare you!"

"That was fun," one of the twins said, grinning at her, "Admit it, it was funny!"

"My face hurts," she complained, "And it feels like I swallowed a bar of soap. You Weasleys…"

"Relax, Nymphadora, it was just a joke," one of the twins told her, still chuckling.

The woman stilled. "What did you call me?" she asked them in a low, dangerous tone, her hair turning a deep crimson.

"Err…Nymphadora?" the other twin inquired hesitantly.

"You know-" she said, whipping out her wand and conjuring two large bathtubs filled with soapy water.

"-better-" she continued, pointing her wand at the twins and disarming both of them.

"-than to call me," her voice rose as she vanished the twin's robes, until they were wearing nothing more than their drawers.

"-Nymphadora!" she finished, levitating the twins several feet in the air and then dunking them in the water with identical dual splashes.

She smiled, satisfied, as the twins began to yell and splutter.

She turned to Harry, who standing rooted to the spot and staring at her uncertainly, "Well… the cat's out the bag, I suppose. I'm Tonks, Harry. My first name is Nymphadora, but I prefer to be known by my family name."

"Err…right, I figured," Harry told her, watching as the twins sat up in their bathtubs with identical looks of shock on their faces.

"Yeah," She nodded, and then continued curiously, "By the way, how did you know I was here?"

Harry shrugged, "Fred and George figured it out, ask them." The Marauder's Map wasn't his secret to tell.

"Okay, I will."

"Why were you following me anyway?"

"Oh, well, I'm an Auror trainee, Harry," she told him, "Keeping an eye on you, without you noticing, was part of my practical assignment. Most of the Aurors are too busy to do it, what with Sirius Black escaping and causing mayhem and all. They didn't think you'll be in much danger at Hogwarts, so they let me do it."

"You're an Auror trainee?" Harry asked her, impressed. He watched, amused, as the twins began to laugh and pretended to be having a real bath.

"Yeah," Tonks told him proudly, her hair turning pink, "Just got in this year."

The Gryffindor portrait swung outwards to their right and a sixth year prefect clambered out. He pushed the portrait hole shut behind him and glanced at the scene in the hallway disinterestedly. He stopped and did a double take, taking in the scene before him again- which included an extremely clean looking strange woman with pink hair, holding three wands, the Weasley twins having baths in bathtubs outside the common room in their underwear and Harry James Bloody Potter, just standing there, with a scar on his forehead.

"No," he held up his hand, "Don't tell me. I don't want to know, really."

* * *

Harry walked up to his dormitory, tired. His mind was racing, however. He'd probably never thought as much in his life as he'd that day.

The common room had been buzzing with conversation about Sirius Black. He'd heard so many rumors about the man that he didn't know what to believe.

Most of the students seemed to have forgotten that Harry had almost been killed and so weren't treating him any differently than usual, for which he was grateful.

He'd enjoyed meeting Nymph…Tonks. She was friendly and nice, and didn't talk down to him. He'd learned that she'd be the one Apparating him to Privet Drive the next day, with a full Auror for added protection- not that he'd need it, he'd been assured. He was looking forward to it- he'd never Apparated before-, but he was chafing a bit because he was being treated like a kid. He was almost twelve, and he had faced Voldemort by himself once and survived. Surely this Sirius Black couldn't be as dangerous, could he?

Harry had talked to his friends all day, until bedtime, telling them all about his meeting with Dumbledore and then asking them what they thought about it all. Ron and Hermione both agreed with Dumbledore's views: Harry shouldn't have anything to do with his godfather. There were also almost as curious as Harry about the strange man who had known Harry's dad.

"Harry, I'm just beginning to realize that we know so little about the last war, about our world," Hermione's words rang in his ears, "All of this is one surprise after another. I think it's time we did a little research, you know, and find out as much as we can about the last war. We'll be better prepared that way in the future if Sirius Black or You-Know-Who come after you."

Ron had made a face when he heard "a little research", but even he'd agreed with Hermione's assessment. He'd even offered to talk to his Dad and tell them everything his father was willing to tell him.

Harry had to admit Hermione was right. What did he even know about his parents anyway? That they were Head Boy and Head Girl? But what had his father done for a living? Who were his grandparents? What had happened to them? Did he have any magical cousins? Harry realized that he'd been sleep-walking through his first year at Hogwarts, so amazed by the new world he'd found that he'd just started accepting and stopped questioning.

Harry knew he didn't have Hermione's brains, but he wasn't exactly stupid. It was time, he resolved, to pull up his socks and do a little research- beginning next year, of course.

His friends had badgered him into turning in early when they'd caught him yawning one time too many. He'd given in to their demands after he'd been reminded that he'd just been in the Hospital Wing and needed his rest, and so now he found himself up alone in his dormitory.

Harry changed out his robes slowly, realizing it was his final night in Hogwarts, his real home, and he wouldn't be back here for a long time.

He wished it was next year already.

He got into bed and took off his glasses and leaned over to place them on the small bedside table. He paused when he caught a strange glint of red on black. "_The Dark Arts Unleashed"_, the title of the familiar book gleamed_._

Harry stared, flummoxed.

A parchment was sitting on top of it, addressed to him in Dumbledore's elegant, imperious hand.

"_Harry, I'd hoped to protect you for a time more, to let you enjoy your childhood, but I fear it's not to be. You should follow Sirius' advice and learn as much as you can about countering the Dark Arts. I want you to read this book over the summer- it will help greatly in the future. Also, I believe it's time I took a hand in your education: you will be having extra lessons with me next year." _

Extra studying material for the summer, Harry thought dispassionately, great. He knew it'd be dead useful, though, so he couldn't complain much. And he'd be having lessons with Dumbledore next year! What would he be learning? Complex spells that he'd never seen before? Harry couldn't wait.

_"You are an exceptional boy, Harry, and I'm sure you'll grow up to be an exceptional young man as well. I know you will use the knowledge you gain responsibly. My door is always open to you, should you wish to discuss anything you read in there. Please know your parents would've been very proud of you, my boy."_

Harry took the book and began flipping through the pages curiously, not pausing even when a particularly horrible curse, that caused people to vomit up their intestines, caught his attention.

Somehow he found himself staring at the blank final page.

Had Dumbledore removed the enchantment?

He probably had. His heart was thudding in anticipation anyway. Harry's wand, almost of its own accord, rose and tapped the page.

Harry stared, and then stared some more.

Needless to say Harry did not sleep early that night.

* * *

"Hi, Harry! Good morning to you," Hermione greeted him as Harry approached the Gryffindor table for breakfast. "Did you sleep w…Harry? Why are you looking at me like that?" Hermione inquired curiously.

"Err…like what Hermione?" Harry asked her, tearing his gaze away from her.

"I don't know, you were looking at me differently," she told him, frowning down at herself, as he sat down, "Do I have anything stuck to my robes or something?"

Ron was keeping a curious eye on the conversation.

"N-no, Hermione," Harry assured her, "You look perfectly okay to me."

"Who said anything about me being looking okay?" Hermione asked him suspiciously, "And what's that book you're carrying? Is it the same book from yesterday, the one your godfather gave you? Didn't Dumbledore take it from you?"

"Err… h-he gave it back," Harry stuttered, clutching the book protectively to his chest, cursing himself for bringing it down with him for breakfast- but he'd been so groggy, he hadn't been thinking straight. "He s-said I needed to know more about the Dark Arts."

"I see… Well, if Dumbledore says it's okay…Can I see it?" Hermione asked him, looking at the book curiously, trying to read the title.

"NO," Harry screeched loudly. The Great Hall fell silent as everybody stared at him. Somebody laughed, while a few people jeered.

His face burned.

His friends were frowning at him in surprise, but didn't say anything because everybody was listening in.

Gradually the conversation in the Great Hall picked up again.

"Why not?" Hermione asked him quietly, even more curious than before.

"Yeah, mate, why ever not?" Ron interjected.

"You just can't!" Harry replied loudly.

"Why are you acting so bloody strange, mate?" Ron scowled. "Here," Ron said, getting up and trying to clutch at the book, "Let's see what this is all about."

"NO," Harry shouted, panicking. He sprang up, turned tail and sprinted out of the Great Hall.

* * *

Harry was scowling at the wall.

He'd received an earful from Hermione when she'd finally pried the book from his still-resisting fingers- something about him being too young to even think of these things and why Harry, who was such a nice boy, would even want to waste time looking at it.

Ron had tried to keep a straight face throughout that conversation, but he'd had to stifle his laughter several times, much to Hermione's displeasure. Not to mention that Harry was sure he'd caught him looking longingly at the book on several occasions.

At the end of the conversation Hermione had disenchanted the book and handed it back to Harry, a disapproving look on her face. By that point, neither of the two boys was willing to look her in the eye. She'd huffed, called them first-rate prats and stormed up to her dormitory, to do some last minute packing.

Ron had patted him on the back sympathetically and said to him that he understood, and mumbled something about Fred and George's Playwizard collection.

Harry, for his part, was sure he'd never be able to look any girl in the eye again- if only because he'd be too busy staring somewhere else. He'd seen the older boys acting like prats in front of the older girls before, but he'd never really understood why, until now. No wonder Dudley took so much money from his Aunt Petunia to buy "car magazines" every month.

Harry cursed that so-called godfather of his, Sirius Black, under his breath.

He could only hope that whatever he was feeling would wear off over the summer.

* * *

Harry had waved goodbye to his friends, gloomy to be leaving them behind. They'd become his family in the single year they'd spent together, and he wouldn't see them for several weeks. They'd promised to keep in touch over the summer, however, and Ron had even said something about asking his Mum to invite Harry over to stay.

Harry was just happy he finally had someone he could write letters to.

He was now waiting in the empty Great Hall with Tonks. He'd been informed he wouldn't be able to attend the leaving feast. Harry hadn't really wanted to attend anyway, because Slytherin would be winning the House Cup that year and he knew they'd be all obnoxious about it.

His trunk was on the floor beside him, where Tonks had levitated it. Hedwig's empty cage sat on it- he'd set her free and instructed her to meet him at home.

"He should be here soon, Harry," Tonks told him chirpily.

"Okay," Harry replied.

"I should warn you that he doesn't really look…err… normal, because of the last war. And he's kind of paranoid," Tonks said.

"He has scars or something?" Harry asked her curiously.

"Yup, so be prepared. I don't want you to be scared or anything."

"Why would I be scared?"

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE," a voice roared from behind them, making them both jump a foot in the air.

Harry whirled around, his hand going to his wand automatically, his heart thudding hard against his chest.

A grizzled man, with a protuberant eye that was whizzing madly about its socket, was glaring at them both.

Tonks was clutching at her chest and said weakly, "What the fuck, Mad-Eye?! Err… sorry, Harry… Damn it, Mad-Eye, there was no need for that!"

"Of course there was," Mad-Eye told her, scowling at her, "Look at you! Your wand isn't even pointing at me. You're not going to make it through Auror training at this rate, I tell you-"

"No, of course I won't," Tonks rolled her eyes, "Why would I? Silly old me."

"-Even the boy has more sense than you," Mad-Eye continued in a growl, gesturing at Harry, "At least he's drawn his wand and it's pointed at me. I could've been a Death Eater, for all you know."

"Oh, Harry," Tonks said, ignoring Mad-Eye, "this is the Auror I was telling you about, Alastor Moody. Just call him Mad-Eye, everyone does. He's my supervisor at the Academy."

"Err… right," Harry said warily, staring with sickly fascination at the whizzing eye that never seemed to stay still for long, "Pleased to meet you, sir… I think."

Harry vowed to never Apparate again, ever. The experience had been horrible- he didn't mind if it took five times as long, but he'd rather fly to his destination than be squeezed like a lemon for lemonade.

"Right, Potter, let's go," Moody growled.

"Go where, sir?" Harry asked him, stepping on the pavement outside number 4, "You can't come in! Sorry, it's just that my relatives don't like magic so-"

"I don't care about your relatives, Potter," Moody barked, "I have to make sure your house is secure and Sirius Black can't get in."

"But-"

"I wouldn't argue if I were you, Harry," Tonks advised tiredly, "It's no use when he gets like that. We'll be here all day otherwise."

Harry reluctantly led the way up the garden path to the front door of his house. Moody and Tonks, with Tonks making a show of dragging Harry's heavy trunk behind her but secretly using her wand, followed, staring about the curiously, taking in the neat, sterile looking garden with a raised eyebrows.

Harry rang the doorbell, calling out ,"Aunt Petunia, it's me!"

They could hear footsteps and the door opened after a moment. A horsey-faced woman peeked out, "You're back, are you?" there was a surprised pause, "And who're you?" She glared at Tonks disapprovingly, staring at her pink hair.

When she finally caught sight of Moody, she let out a small scream and tried to slam the door in his face.

But Moody jammed his wooden leg in the doorway, preventing it from closing, "Now look here, woman, " he growled intimidatingly at her, his eye whizzing at full speed, "Don't act like a fool. Either you let us in or I will let myself in- and you won't like it when that happens."

"W-what do you want?" Petunia asked him fearfully, "We don't put up with your kind here."

Moody's wand appeared in his hand, as if by magic, and he pointed it at her, "We're here to check your house and the boy's room. Now let us in, quickly; we're vulnerable on the doorstep!"

Petunia backed away and rushed inside the house, leaving the door open, calling, "Vernon?! Vernon!"

"Where's your room, boy?" Moody asked him, ushering them in.

"Err… it's up the stairs, to the right," Harry told him uncertainly, "You should…err… watch out for my Uncle Vernon. He has a nasty temper."

Moody snorted.

Sure enough, just as they got Harry's trunk through the doorway, there was a sound of thundering footsteps.

His Uncle Vernon appeared, wearing a smart looking suit- apparently they'd caught him just as he was heading off to work, "Now, what's all this?" he said rudely, "How dare you barge into my house like this?" He looked at Tonks, and his face purpled as he took in her pink hair, "Get out, now!"

"Dursley, right?" Moody scowled at him, "Settle down, man, we're just here to check if the house is secure against intruders."

"Intruders?" Vernon glared, a vein throbbing in his temple as he took in Moody's spinning eye, "What intruders? You, boy, what is this all about?"

"Err…" Harry stared at his uncle, suddenly struck by a brainwave, "My godfather escaped from prison, and he might come here to check up on me."

Nobody spoke for a moment.

"Godfather? Prison?" Vernon repeated finally, appearing at a loss for words.

"Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban a few days back," Moody barked, "He could be after Potter."

"Sirius Black?" Petunia had appeared again and was speaking, almost against her will, "He escaped from Azkaban, the Wizarding prison?"

Harry and Vernon Dursley both stared at her, aghast.

"Pet? You know about this Azuka ban rubbish?" Vernon asked her finally, just as Harry asked her, "Aunt Petunia, you know my godfather Sirius?"

Aunt Petunia pursed her lips and didn't respond to either of them.

"Right," Tonks said finally, "Erm…"

"Wait, is this Serious Black character dangerous?" Vernon glared at Moody.

The grizzled Auror nodded grouchily.

"Right, you," Uncle Vernon roared, whirling on Harry, "Out! And take your rubbish with you," he said, kicking at his trunk, "I don't want you endangering my family! Out!"

Harry didn't move, shocked. He hadn't actually expected his relatives to throw him out- his plan had really backfired spectacularly. He'd been hoping that knowing that his Godfather had escaped from prison would make them act nicer towards him! What was he supposed to do now? Where was he supposed to go?

"Dursley," Moody roared, "You're wasting time. Potter is staying here, and that's final!"

"The hell he is," Dursley shouted back, "We've put up with him and his rubbish for too long! I don't want your kind putting my wife and child in danger!"

Moody pointed his wand, which was shooting sparks, at Vernon, looking as if he wanted to curse the man senseless. But he couldn't- he'd get into trouble at the office for Muggle baiting. Vernon, however, didn't know that- he squawked and hopped backwards, bringing his suitcase up as if to protect his body.

"Erm…Here," Tonks said meanwhile, pulling a letter from her pocket and extending it towards Petunia, "Professor Dumbledore told me to give this to you."

Aunt Petunia took it hesitantly, frowning down at it suspiciously.

Dudley chose this moment to stick his head around the living room door, after reluctantly pausing the game on his Super Nintendo system, curious to see what the excitement was all about. He stared at the strangers in fright, his eyes moving from Tonks and settling on Moody's wildly spinning eye.

Tonks' nose changed into that of a pig and she winked at Dudley. He took one look at her, screamed like a girl and vanished.

"Blimey! The whole family's barmy!" Tonks muttered. She caught Harry staring at her, "What?! I didn't include you in that statement! And I was just trying to defuse the tension a little!"

"Err… he almost got turned into a pig by Hagrid a few months back," Harry whispered to her, "Sprouted a tail and all. Reckon he's scared of Wizards and pigs since then."

"Oh…"

"Vernon, the boy has to stay," Aunt Petunia said absently, having finished the letter.

"But-"Vernon blustered.

"He stays," she snapped, and then turned to Moody and Tonks, "And I want you both out of here as soon as possible."

"We'd have been out of here by now if you hadn't insisted on wasting so much time…" Tonks muttered.

* * *

Harry's summer was looking up. Moody had threatened his Uncle that Moody would be checking up on him regularly, so he was sure he wouldn't be locked up anytime soon.

Harry would have pretended he could use magic in summer to scare his relatives, but couldn't. He was sure his Aunt would see through that soon enough.

Harry knew his Aunt was hiding a lot of things, and he had decided to begin his research earlier by pestering her until she told him whatever it was. She despised him though, just as much as he despised her, and he knew it wouldn't be easy- but he'd put up with that if he had to.

He'd also becoming fast friends with Tonks, who'd winked at him and said she'd be in touch. She'd also said something about some order and guard duty before leaving. What order was she talking about? And guarding what?

Harry tossed Hedwig an owl treat, grinning at her, "Hedwig, girl, my life couldn't be better right now."

She blinked and hooted at him agreeably.

* * *

Sirius glared at one of the inside pages of the Daily Prophet.

"Who the fuck does he think he is?" Sirius said with gritted teeth, "The second coming of Merlin?"

"Let it go, Padfoot," Remus said tiredly.

"'Sorry excuses for wizards, like Sirius Black, are no match for wizards of my caliber'," Sirius growled, reading the Prophet aloud, "'I know I would wipe the floor with him if he ever dared to face me in a duel. But he's chosen to hide like a coward, and my busy schedule hardly permits me to go haring off after him all over the countryside. Otherwise, I would have dealt with the nuisance by now.'"

"Let it go, Padfoot," Remus repeated, sighing.

"Wizards of his caliber?! His caliber?! I'll show him his stupid caliber- all two bloody inches of it."

"Merlin," Remus groaned, giving up and burying his face in his hands.

Tonight was the night of the Full Moon. He had been fighting a losing battle with his friend for a whole week. He knew he'd lost when the Daily Prophet had published an interview of Lockhart, where he'd gone and made all those comments about Sirius.

"And look at his teeth," Sirius growled, "I hate his stupid teeth."

"Didn't you want to take a vacation?" Remus asked him hopefully, but knowing that it was futile.

"I'll leave tomorrow," Sirius replied dismissively, "We're going after Lockhart today."

"But tonight is the night of the Full Moon," Remus said desperately, hoping against hope.

Sirius grinned. "Exactly, Moony, exactly…"


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: **Thank you for your reviews Accalia Silvermoon, azphxbrd, Zicou, Katzztar, Jannafrancine, Cherrie-san, CycoMW, fraewyn, Saphireanime! I have a loose plot for this in my head for 2nd year already, so I don't know if I can fit Harry being taken into the chamber instead of Ginny, and Sirius and Remus coming to rescue him.. Let's see how it goes!

**Chapter 6: The Great Reveal**

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Remus said hollowly.

"Just get in the cage, you big wuss," Sirius urged, pushing him towards a six foot long and ten foot wide silver cage that he'd transfigured to contain his best friend when he transformed into a giant, man-eating werewolf.

"I mean what if something goes wrong with your plan? What if he kills me like that werewolf he killed in Austria?" Remus said, reluctantly moving a couple of steps closer to the cage.

"And what could possibly go wrong?" Sirius scoffed.

"That's exactly what you said at the end of seventh year, when you talked us into trying to prank Dumbledore-," Remus began.

"I was being rhetorical," Sirius cut him off, rolling his eyes, "And he's not going to kill you… can't guarantee he won't piss on you in fright, though."

"You could be wrong about him, you know," Remus insisted, struggling against Sirius' attempts to hustle him inside the cage, "He really might have killed that feral Werewolf in Austria. I don't want to die just yet!"

"Merlin... And you think I'd just stand there are watch you die," Sirius said skeptically.

"You might…you've changed. You might even enjoy it," Remus accused.

Sirius didn't even bother to deny that. "Don't you trust me, Remus?" Sirius frowned, doing his best to look hurt.

"No."

"Damn it Moony! Just get inside the bloody cage!" Sirius threatened.

"Alright, alright! If I die, I'm coming back to haunt you, you bloody wanker."

"Yeah, yeah."

Sirius ushered a still-reluctant Remus inside and then slammed the door shut after him. He locked it with his wand, trying to ignore Remus, who was now clutching at the bars of the cage and looking at him with hurt, accusing eyes- as if his final day in this world had arrived and it was all Sirius' fault.

The sun had just set; its afterglow bathing the landscape around them in crimson fire. It was twilight. The Full Moon would be visible in the sky very, very soon.

Sirius smiled- he couldn't wait to get started on Lockhart, and his flashy teeth.

* * *

Lockhart adjusted the curlers on his head as he admired himself in the wall-length mirror before him. "Jenna, I don't have any appointments for tomorrow, right?" he asked, sparing a glance at his secretary.

"No, Mr. Lockhart," Jenna said wearily, "Your next appointment is day after tomorrow- a dinner you scheduled with Miss Warbeck."

"Ahh, yes," Lockhart said, grinning widely to show off his perfect white teeth, "Dear Celestina… She can't seem to get enough of me, can she? Can't really blame her… Everyone wants a piece of Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award."

Jenna secretly rolled her eyes, "Yes, Mr. Lockhart." She tapped her foot impatiently on the floor of the opulent living room, "Is that all for today, sir? I was hoping to go home early today…"

"Want to turn in so you can be fresh for tomorrow? Can't wait to get started already, eh?" he gave her a conspiratorial wink.

"Something like that," Jenna nodded slowly- she wanted to head home early so she could go through the Prophet and search for another job. Any bloody Merlin forsaken job would do. She would shovel dung if she had to. She just couldn't take this anymore- she really, really couldn't. She just wasn't cut out to be a sycophant.

"Run along, then, run along! Oh, fetch me my fan mail before you go, would you?"

"Burn," Jenna muttered.

"Did you say something?" Lockhart looked at her curiously.

"I said I'll get it right away, Mr. Lockhart."

"That's my girl," Lockhart beamed.

* * *

"Mr. Lockhart, there is something wrong with the Floo connection," Jenna told him, making a face at his back, "I can't seem to get through. Thought you should know… I guess I'll just be Apparating home today…"

"You do that," Lockhart said to her unconcernedly, now sitting at a desk in his indoor study and busily sorting through the stack of fan mail before him.

"Oh, and it's raining cats and dogs outside! And we're in the middle of summer! Stupid English weather…"

"Mmm…"

* * *

Lockhart finished signing the last reply to his fan mail with a flourish. He gazed fondly at yet another naked photo his greatest fan and stalker, Gladys Gludgeon, had included with her letter. Having a personal stalker gave him a really warm feeling in his gut… Life was good.

Lockhart sat back in his chair with a contented sigh, a dreamy smile on his face. He would be off to Hogwarts in a few weeks. He'd get a chance to make an impression on an entire generation of witches and wizards, make himself their role model and sell even more books. Even better; he'd get to meet the Boy-Who-Lived and take him under his wing. With the small amount of fame the boy had to back his own, he'd be simply unstoppable. In a dozen years, who knew where he'd be? He could see himself as the Minister of Magic, even...

There was a roll of thunder outside. The sound seemed to rattle the walls and shake the floor, making Lockhart startle and flinch.

The lights in the room dimmed, brightened and then blacked out entirely.

There was a loud explosion from the direction of the entry hall. Lockhart clutched at the arms of his chair and bit back a cry.

Several explosions followed the first one. Lockhart knew immediately he was in trouble.

Lockhart, appearances aside, was not a stupid man. He knew that whoever it was had to be a thief or someone else up to no good- they'd gone through some effort to penetrate the strong wards around his house. The security trolls and the ex-Auror he'd hired to protect him and the mansion weren't to be seen anywhere either.

He got up from his chair and flitted into the hallway. The entire mansion had been plunged into darkness. Through the huge windows that looked out to the garden, he could see that it was raining by the bucketful.

Brilliant blue lightning flickered across the sky, forcing him to blink and leaving spots in his vision. The blue light threw long shadows against the wall. The thunder that followed immediately after seemed to shake the entire mansion, and still his beating heart.

Lockhart clutched at the wall in terror.

There was the sound of splintering wood and several off key notes from the hallway. From the sound, someone had smashed his beloved ten-thousand galleon piano into kindling.

Fear lent him wings. Lockhart sprinted down the hallway and rushed into the living room, his heart thudding in his chest, sparing several glances over his shoulder as the explosions began to draw closer to him.

A fire was roaring in the hearth there, the only source of light in the room. He ran towards it, grabbed the jar of Floo powder that was placed on the mantel and threw the powder, jar and all, inside the fire in his panic. The fire turned green and erupted in his face.

He rushed inside it, with his eyes scrunched up, and coughed, "M-ministry of Magic!" He braced himself for the disorienting sensation of Floo travel.

The emerald flames continued to lap around him. His living room didn't blur away and grates didn't flash by him. Then he remembered his secretary telling him something about the Floo connection not working.

Another massive explosion seemed to shake the house- and this time it was accompanied by the sound of splintering glass.

Lockhart whimpered.

He tumbled out of the fire and onto the hearth, struggled to his feet and rushed out the door into the hallway, panting, heading upstairs towards his bedroom. He kept an emergency Portkey under his pillow. He'd always dreaded that one day someone would discover his murky past, or that someone would recover their memories and come after him seeking vengeance, and he'd have to disappear quickly.

He took the stairs two at a time, stumbling several times in the darkness. Once on the landing, he puffed down the wide, carpeted corridor that led to his bedroom. He rushed up to the door of the Master bedroom and, after fumbling with the doorknob, he let himself inside the pitch black room. His chest was pumping heavily, and some of the rollers in the hair had shaken loose, leaving his hair in disarray.

He rushed to his four-poster bed and began tossing his pillows behind him carelessly, until finally he found what he was looking for: the small picture of himself he'd had charmed as a Portkey. The Lockhart in the photo grinned at him and ran a hand through his wavy golden hair. Lockhart couldn't even admire his extremely handsome self then- he had to get out of the house first.

"S-safety," he stuttered out the passkey. The Portkey picture warmed in his hand and lit up with a blue glow, but there was no hooking sensation around his navel. The blue glow dimmed and then died altogether, plunging the room in darkness once again.

Lockhart let out a small, somewhat girlish, scream.

Someone had put up Portkey wards around his house, and he'd never really gotten the hang of Apparition. How was he supposed to get out now?

* * *

Lockhart's owned a clearly very expensive large house, or perhaps it was a small mansion, in the countryside. The property was surrounded by sprawling green lawns and copses of trees along its edges. A Muggle road led up to the imposing front gate, part of a brick fence, and all the way up to the front door. Trees lined the road on both sides.

A single mammoth troll was standing with a guard just beyond the gate. Two others were standing like boulders much closer to the house, barely moving.

All three trolls had large, vicious looking clubs in their hands.

Sirius observed the scene from his old Nimbus 1980 high up in the air. The broom had belonged to him when he was at Hogwarts. He'd always taken good care of it and, consequently, even after a prolonged period of disuse, the broom was responsive and fast.

The property was well lit in the light of the Full Moon. Sirius had no trouble making out the double doors of the mansion, through which he planned to enter and get to Lockhart.

He could feel the wards around the property. They were strong, but they were nothing he couldn't overcome. He hadn't been surprised when he'd spotted the guard and the trolls. Lockhart was a big celebrity in the Wizarding World, after all, and he probably thought he needed the protection.

Sirius cast a disillusionment charm on himself, as well as on the broom, and then landed on the Muggle road in front of the gate, just outside of the range of the wards. He dismounted and let the broom fall on the ground, still disillusioned, beside him.

He drew the long knife he'd used for the Blood Ritual in his right hand from the small Muggle backpack he carried on his back. He brought it up against the palm of his left hand and slid it downwards, making a long, red gash on his palm. He watched impassively as a thin trickle of scarlet drops began to fall to the ground. After a small puddle of blood had formed on the road, Sirius replaced the knife in his pack and closed the gash on his palm with his wand.

He then used his wand to draw a thin line of blood from the puddle to the wards, until the line of blood was just touching their edge, causing them to flicker for a moment with energy.

Death Eaters, at the height of Voldemort's power, had used blood-based magic to break through the wards around most houses. Blood-based magic was very powerful and, most importantly, it got the job done quickly. Death Eaters had usually managed to break through wards and get inside houses without alerting the families inside. After that, they would carry out whatever task they had been assigned- which would mostly involve something along the lines of murder, arson and torture- and then leave, before the thinly-stretched Auror forces could arrive.

Sirius, because of his family, unfortunately or fortunately, had a thorough grounding in that particular branch of magic. He hadn't exactly been in the forefront of the last war with Voldemort, but he'd played his part and learned a lot over its course. He's fought Death Eaters several times: first, when they had come recruiting him and then later when they'd come to kill him, when he'd refused to stop helping the Potters. He was more than familiar with their methods. He'd been attacked in his own house, once, and he'd barely gotten out alive. They'd used Blood Magic that particular time.

Blood-based magic, used too often, affected the mind. It removed inhibitions, added perversity- which was why it was banned by the Ministry. It was difficult magic to counter. Specialized wards were needed to block blood-based Magic- which few knew about, or could afford. Lockhart's house had no defense against it.

While Sirius would usually forego such cloak and dagger tactics, he knew time wasn't on his side. If he was going to get to Lockhart, he would have to get through the wards and put up wards of his own to prevent him from escaping. Unraveling layers of wards with magic alone was a tedious task, and it was messy, not to mention loud. Blood magic, on the other hand, was quiet and effective- all of which would allow him to get to Lockhart before he could escape.

Sirius was almost sure the man would run, but he'd been wrong before. Sirius was prepared for several possibilities, just in case. He'd learned the hard way not to rush into things headlong, like he'd done when he'd gone after Peter.

He'd done his homework this time- or, at least, he'd had Remus do it for him.

Lockhart's life, because he was a celebrity, was well documented. The Daily Prophet, several small Wizarding tabloids and all the popular magazines had run dozens of stories about the man over the years. It hadn't been hard to piece together his habits and his schedule- or so Remus had informed him.

Sirius first used a variation of the Homenium Revelio spell, shooting it along a line of blood, to see how many people were inside the house. It required a large amount of concentration to maintain, but the spell would continuously track the movement of the people present, instead of just giving him their location once, like the normal spell did.

He was shown two magical markers, which meant two people were inside the mansion. One of them had to be Lockhart, he was sure, and the other was probably his secretary. According to what Remus had told him, his secretary would leave for home in less than an hour.

Sirius first began to chant a complex jinx that the Marauders had managed to develop in their sixth year, and used as a prank during a Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin Quidditch game. He pointed his wand at the point where the line of blood met the wards, so the magic would work through the wards. Sirius smiled as he said the words. It was one of his favorite jinxes.

It affected the weather over a small area for a limited time. It was complex, but it was perfect for what he was about to do.

Almost immediately, dark storm clouds began to appear above the property. Heavy raindrops began to fall to the ground in a slow patter and lightning began to flash across the sky. The roar of thunder was loud in his ears. The wind picked up and blew his cloak about him.

Sirius then began to chant a jinx that would disrupt the Floo connection, which connected the house to the Magical Floo Network. In less than a minute, he'd severed the magical pathway from its lattice.

As he worked, one of the magical markers he sensed disappeared. That meant either the secretary had Apparated away or Lockhart had. Sirius cursed.

He hadn't been expecting that. It probably was the secretary, though. Lockhart did not usually leave home late.

It was time to dismantle the wards and let himself inside the property quickly, before Lockhart noticed something amiss.

Sirius pointed his wand at the ground at the blood and began to chant under his breath. He felt the magic respond to his will, eager and questing.

Sirius closed his eyes and concentrated on the layer of wards around Lockhart's mansion, raising his left hand to sense the magic of the wards better, using the wand in his right hand to direct his own. He willed the magic to pierce through the invisible, protective bubble they formed over the property. An ever expanding hole opened in the bubble, as if something was eating away at it from a point, spreading outwards at a steady pace, its hunger unquenchable, no matter how much of the magic it devoured.

The blood that had collected on the ground before him began to hiss and boil, evaporating away slowly, giving off a foul odor. The wards began to unravel, bit by bit, and, by the time the blood had almost boiled away completely, they'd collapsed entirely.

Sirius let his hands fall, wiped the sweat from his brow and took a moment to collect himself.

Sirius closed his eyes again and then concentrated on putting up basic Anti-Apparition and Portkey wards, tying them to the blood that had seeped inside the ground now, laying them over the foundation of the old wards. Nobody but him could Apparate or Portkey in and out of the property now. It would take a single determined Wizard several minutes to pull his wards down.

He opened his eyes to see the air around him glitter and flicker strangely, before the magic settled in place. He stopped the Homenium Revelio spell and clutched his wand tightly in his right hand.

He Apparated away with a pop and appeared next to the human guard who cursing and looking up at the black sky. Before the guard, or the stupid troll who was standing just beyond him, could notice him, Sirius thrust his wand into the man back and whispered, "_Stupefy." _Sirius grabbed hold of the falling bodyand Apparated them both a distance away from the mansion, to a grove of trees to the side.

He left the man inside a convenient ditch. The man wouldn't recover for a few hours, and Sirius would be long gone by then.

Sirius Apparated back inside the mansion grounds, a couple of dozen feet away from the troll that was standing just beyond the gate, looking for its human controller and scratching at its head stupidly.

The rain was beginning to fall in earnest now.

This time, as soon as Sirius's feet touched solid ground, he transformed into his Animagus form.

The large, menacing Grimm that appeared in his place took several slow steps towards the troll, its hackles raised. The troll was now looking at the dog stupidly. Padfoot growled. The troll roared and hefted the large club it was holding in both hands, prepared to crush the skull of the dog that was stupid enough to growl at it.

Padfoot dodged to the right and sprinted past the troll.

The troll grunted in frustration and began running after the dog, which was now headed in the direction of the two other trolls, who were standing much closer to the house.

The torrential rain and thunder, and the occasional lightning, were enough of a distraction that Padfoot was sure Lockhart wouldn't hear a thing.

Padfoot darted about, barking, as he neared the two trolls, trying to make them chase him. It was much easier than he expected. They barreled after the dog eagerly, trampling the grass under their feet. Padfoot led all three trolls a merry chase through the trees to the right of the property, fast enough that they wouldn't catch him, but slow enough that they wouldn't lose hope.

After they were far away from the house, the Grimm vanished and Sirius appeared in its place. He Apparated away with a pop and reappeared in front of the gates of Lockhart's mansion.

He paused for a moment, panting. His lungs burned and the water that dripped down his face tasted salty from his sweat. He wasn't used to the exertion, not anymore. He sighed. He really needed that vacation.

Sirius spelled the gates of the mansion open and stepped inside slowly, making for the front door of the house. He began tracing a line in the grass on one side of the road as he walked, leaving a straight black furrow behind him, muttering a spell under his breath. Once he reached the front door of the mansion, he cut through the ground right up to the front steps, and then he turned back and began to draw another line in the grass on the other side of the road, parallel to the one he had drawn earlier.

He stopped at the gate of the mansion, completely exhausted. Small tremors were beginning to run through his body, both from the cold of the rain and from his exertions.

Sirius withdrew a flask from his bag, which contained a Pepper Up potion, and downed it one go. He immediately felt better as the warm liquid slipped down his throat and steam puffed out from his ears.

Sirius slowly walked up to the front door of the house, recasting the Homenium Revelio spell. It showed him that Lockhart was in an indoor room, far away from the front door.

It was time.

Sirius flicked his wand upward. A huge roar of lightning and thunder rent the sky. Another flick of his wand and a whispered jinx later, the mansion before him was plunged into darkness.

Sirius opened the front door and stepped inside, ready for anything.

He saw red.

Lockhart was smiling at him from portraits hung on the wall, from pictures, from posters and from framed newspaper clippings. A couple of Lockharts were even waving at him, their teeth flashing white in his direction, like neon in the darkness.

Sirius shot blasting curses all around him, until he could see no more of Lockhart- and his stupid teeth.

When he was done, he levitated the expensive looking piano on his right in the air and smashed it against the wall.

Sirius began moving towards Lockhart, causing wanton destruction and devastation along the way, just because he could.

* * *

There was the sound of slow footsteps in the corridor, outside Lockhart's bedroom. They were heading his way.

Whoever it was that had come for him would find him soon.

Lockhart turned his head this way and that, searching for a way out. His eyes were wide and his breathing erratic.

Short of jumping out of his bedroom window, there was nothing he could really do.

Lockhart, not for the first time, wished he really was as awesome as he claimed to be.

His gaze landed on the mirror that was a part of the large dresser against the far wall. He'd almost forgotten it in his panic- he could contact his secretary!

"J-J-enna!" he shouted at the mirror, "JENNA!"

The footsteps outside his door drew ever closer.

Lockhart whimpered and crawled backwards until his back was against the wall and he was facing the door. Fat beads of sweat began to drip down his brow.

The footsteps paused outside his doorway.

"Jenna!" he called out again in panic.

The doorknob began to turn- very, very slowly.

Lockhart's heart hammered painfully against his chest. He gave serious second thought to jumping through the window.

The door opened. A dramatic, and somewhat prolonged, flash of lightning threw the features of the man standing in the doorway in sharp relief. He had a sharp jaw and a face that had been aristocratic and handsome once upon a time, but now appeared weathered and ravaged- though it still had a certain charm about it. He had steel grey eyes that glittered in the pale blue light. They seemed to catch and pin Lockhart to the floor. His black hair fell to his shoulders in strange waves, and his thin-looking frame seemed to shake and shiver with minute tremors.

He held a lighted wand with casual elegance in his right hand, pointed downwards, bathing the floor of the room in red light.

Lockhart's heart almost stopped beating.

"S-S-S-S-Sirus Black?" Lockhart squeaked out, his eyes wide and staring.

Sirius smiled, causing Lockhart to flinch back, and opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a voice from his left.

"What is it now, Mr Lockhart?" An annoyed, but extremely attractive, young witch was speaking from the mirror to his left. When she spotted Sirius a second later, she paled and eyes widened in shock, "S-S-Sirius Black?"

Sirius grinned at her in what he thought was a charming manner, "Well, well… hello there! Jenna, is it?"

She screamed an earsplitting scream.

Sirius pouted.

"H-help, J-J-Jenna! C-contact the Aurors!" Lockhart seemed to have recovered his wits.

"O-okay, Mr Lockhart!"

Her face disappeared from the mirror.

Sirius looked at Lockhart curiously. He'd certainly expected more from the man- a stunning charm or two, at the very least. But the man had backed himself in a corner, as far away from Sirius as he could get, and hadn't even drawn his wand. He appeared to be scared out of his wits.

The man hadn't changed much at all.

"Well, Goldie, the coward is here," Sirius told him, stepping inside the room, "Let's have that duel then, shall we?"

"D-d-duel? N-n-no, n-n-no…" Lockhart stuttered, trying to push himself through the wall.

"No? What do you mean, no?" Sirius tsked, and then something caught his eye in the next flash of lightning. He stared, "What on earth is that stuck in your hair?"

"W-what?"

Sirius flicked his wand at him. There was a loud tearing sound. Lockhart began screaming and crying out in pain, clutching at his head. Sirius caught the round object that flew towards him in his free hand and stared at it incredulously.

"Really?!" he asked Lockhart, who was now moaning, his eyes scrunched up, tears streaming down his face. "A roller?"

Lockhart didn't answer him, apart from letting out another moan of pain.

"Right, well…Anyway," Sirius continued with a small shudder, tossing the roller, which had locks of golden hair wrapped around it, aside, "If you're not going to duel me…"

Lockhart screamed something at him, sobbing all the while in agony, and finally drew his wand. He pointed it at Sirius and shouted, "Obliviate."

The grey beam of light sped towards Sirius and impacted him on his chest.

Lockhart looked at him expectantly. Sirius rolled his eyes.

Lockhart's eyes widened and he said weakly, "Y-y-you are a Master Occlumens?"

"Obviously," Sirius said, twirling his wand in his hand in a bored voice, waiting to see if Lockhart would throw another spell at him. When he did no such thing, he sighed and summoned Lockhart's wand from his now slack fingers, "What the fuck is wrong with you, man?! Throw a stunner at me at least, for Merlin's sake… Which idiot throws a memory charm during a duel anyway?"

"I-I…What do you w-want, B-Black?" Lockhart asked him through his pained sobs.

"That's Dark Lord Siriusly Black to you, Goldilocks," Sirius informed him, and then sighed, "I guess you don't want to duel me, then…"

Lockhart shook his head frantically, and began pushing against the wall again.

"Well if we're not going to duel, let's skip to the torture session-," lightning cracked in the background,"- shall we?" Sirius proposed.

"T-t-t-t-torture?" Lockhart began to hyperventilate.

Sirius conjured a throne-like chair for himself and sat down on it. Sirius clasped his hands together and stared quietly for a long moment at Lockhart, "Well, you have better bladder control now, at any rate…"

Lockhart whimpered.

"Kreacher!" Sirius leaned back in his makeshift throne and called out imperiously.

"Bad Master is calling Kreacher again?" Kreacher appeared with a loud crack. He held Crouch's wand in his hands and was caressing it gently, almost lovingly, in a creepy way. He caught sight of Lockhart and his eyes widened in surprise.

"You little twit…," Sirius growled out, "You know the Summoning Charm?"

"Kreacher knows it," Kreacher replied slowly.

Sirius smiled happily.

"I want you to summon the teeth from his mouth when I tell you to. All thirty-two of them. One at a time."

Lockhart stared between the two and began sucking in air between whimpers, like he was drowning.

Kreacher grinned malevolently, "Master's stay in Azkaban appears to have improved master…" and pointed the wand at Lockhart, but then he stopped and looked at Sirius in disappointment, "Kreacher cannot harm a wizard."

Sirius frowned. "He tried to Obliviate me. It's your job to defend me."

The light of understanding dawned in Kreacher's eyes.

"Kreacher is ready now," he said in a low, excited voice.

Sirius smiled, and then frowned.

He felt the wards Blood wards he'd erected earlier come under attack and fall under a combined assault from several powerful wizards. A few moments later, he felt the oppressive pressure of new wards taking the place of the old ones. The lightning stopped, and the rain subsided.

Suddenly a loud, magically-amplified voice rang through the house, "Sirius Black, this is the Magical Law Enforcement. We have the house surrounded and Anti-Apparition and Portkey wards in place. You cannot escape. We demand that you give yourself up at once. Come quietly and you will not be harmed."

"Damn…they're early. Better response time now… got to remember," Sirius muttered, after performing a wandless Tempus charm.

He shot a stunner at Lockhart, who was looking hopefully at the door. The man slumped to the floor, unconscious.

"Kreacher," Sirius said quietly as he stood up, "Take him to the clearing, where I'm camped. Keep watch over him. Ensure he doesn't escape. And do nothing to the werewolf in the clearing, or I will make you eat yourself- one disgusting piece at a time. Go."

Kreacher looked disappointed that he wouldn't get to use the Summoning Charm, "Kreacher must do as master wishes…"

He disappeared with a crack, taking Lockhart with him through the Ministry's wards.

"Sirius Black, I repeat- we have the house surrounded. We demand you give yourself up at once. You cannot escape."

Sirius coolly strode down the hallway, headed for the front door. He had no intention of running. Sirius was a Gryffindor- he'd never been one to back down from anything, and he wasn't about to start now.

And, in any case, he'd prepared for this eventuality.

He'd even looked forward to it.

This would be a good time to see what the Ministry could throw at him- and at Voldemort, when the bastard deigned to show up. He had no intention of fighting the Ministry now, of course- but there was no reason why he couldn't have some fun with them.

Sirius animated a large, life-size marble statue of Lockhart halfway down the corridor. He purposely hadn't destroyed it- against his better judgment. He made it walk behind him. He pointed his wand at a large table that he spotted inside a room and animated that too. It rose on spindly legs and began to follow him. Sirius did the same to several other pieces of furniture he encountered along the way, until he was leading a small army of furniture down the corridor.

He then began to conjure a large number of small, colorful birds, which he then directed to circle around his torso.

The wand he'd… borrowed from the Auror wasn't a good match for him. It did its bidding only because he'd won it from its master. Sirius had to concentrate much harder than he would with a well-matched wand and, at times, he had force his magic through the wand instead of just relaxing his control and letting his magic flow through it.

"Sirius Black, this is your final warning. We will let the Dementors inside if you don't co operate," the voice boomed, as Sirius began to walk down the stairway.

Sirius paused halfway down the stairs when he heard that, frowning. He hadn't thought they would bring Dementors. Few memories made him happy now, and he doubted they were strong enough to let him cast a Patronus.

He'd just have to survive, just like he had in Azkaban.

He began to shiver as tendrils of cold Dark magic began to reach him. He saw James' lifeless hazel eyes again, staring at him unseeingly. He saw Peter, triumphant, as he cruelly killed all those Muggles around Sirius. He saw his father using the Cruciatus curse on him again, before he left home. He saw Lily lying on the floor, dead.

Sirius walked slowly into the hallway, his breath hitching in his throat.

He closed his eyes, sighed, and forced himself to control his breathing.

His body was shaking with small tremors again. His body was still recovering, and it simply wouldn't hold up under a prolonged period of stress, as this night was turning out to be.

His eyes were calm and distant when they opened.

He pointed his wand at the beautifully-carved front door, "_Bombarda."_

The door blew outwards with a huge roar of sound and light.

Sirius jogged towards the front door and waved his wand at the darkness in the doorway and said, "_Oppugno."_

All the pieces of furniture he'd gathered along the way streamed around him, much faster than he was moving, and headed out of the door before him.

They were immediately hit by dozens of spells, from stunners to blasting spells to hexes and powerful jinxes, causing them to splinter and crack, and sending pieces of them flying about in the air, some of them whacking against Sirius and falling to the floor.

The marble statue of Lockhart, which was in the lead, bore the brunt of the damage. It lost a part of its torso and the side of its head, but it kept on going. It would attack any Auror it first came upon, until it was either disenchanted or torn apart.

A couple of Dementors that were about to head inside the house were knocked sideways by the stream of furniture.

It looked like the Ministry had sent at least a dozen Aurors after him and they didn't care if they took him alive or dead. Most of them were, judging from the direction and speed with which the spells had come, either bunched up in front of the main door of the mansion or on brooms for mobility, or both.

Sirius shouted, _"Protego Orbis", _pointing his wand at himself,just as he moved past the doorway_. _A shimmering orb of energy sprang up around him. The spell would repel most minor jinxes and maybe a couple of stunners, but it was a huge drain on his magical core, and he couldn't hold it for long.

Sirius jogged into the darkness, blinking rapidly as a huge wave of sound and light came from all directions and washed over him, leaving spots in his vision. Spells were flying all around him, bathing the night in color and sound. Bits and pieces of kindling were soaring through the air around him, twitching and shuddering as the animation on the wood wore off.

They hadn't spotted him yet in the chaos. He had to trust that the animated furniture would keep them occupied for a time at least before they did.

He pointed his wand at the ground as he ran, activating the conjuration spell he'd placed before on double, parallel lines he'd drawn along the ground earlier. Long, blue Age Lines, shimmering with energy, became suddenly visible on the ground on either sides of him. They formed a long, unbroken corridor from along the Muggle road to the front gates of the mansion.

Half a dozen Aurors that were bunched around in front of him were thrown sideways, away from the protected road, by the magic of the Age Lines, leaving the path before him suddenly free.

He heard a cry and a crash- from the corner of his eye, he saw an Auror on broom ram hard against the invisible wall put up by one of the Age Lines and bounce backwards into the air, his broom splintering underneath him.

Sirius held in a snicker.

He was aware that at least a dozen Aurors were around him, in the sky and on the ground, busy fighting his animated furniture. A couple of moaning Aurors were lying in the grass to his right, surrounded by bits of wood. The Aurors that his Age Line had incapacitated were hissing in pain, and some of them were slowly getting to their feet.

Many of the Aurors seemed to have missed him entirely, but the shimmering shield he wore around him would draw their attention soon enough.

He looked ahead to see half a dozen Dementors converging on the road, floating through the Age Line. They began to glide towards him with great speed, their breaths rattling in their throats. A wave of cold washed over him, and he stumbled and almost fell.

He held back the blackness that was creeping over him with a huge effort of will, shouted, "_Accio"_, and pushed himself into a headlong sprint towards the Dementors.

He saw a sickly brown beam of light coming towards him from the right, fired by an Auror who standing on the pieces of Lockhart's marble statue.

Sirius would have crowed with joy at the sight of the broken statue, but he had other things to worry about.

Sirius thought, "_Oppugno" _and directed one of the birds still circling around his body towards the spell. Bird and spell collided in mid-air in a spectacular explosion of color and sound, drawing everyone's attention towards him.

Several curses shot towards him, and Sirius threw most of the birds around him outwards to block them, one after the other, as quickly as he could, still running as fast as he could.

Sirius was buffeted by a dozen explosions as he ran. He was hit by a couple of spells, causing the shield that covered him to flicker and die out entirely- just as he was almost upon the Dementors.

Because of the Age Lines and the trees that lined the path, the Aurors had to position themselves at an angle to get a clear shot at him. They stopped shooting spells at him entirely as he drew near the Dementors, afraid they would hit the Dark creatures instead of him.

Some of the Aurors, who were on brooms, flew up to the Age Lines and began speeding after him along the closed corridor they formed.

Sirius barely saw the shimmering outline of the object he'd summoned earlier shooting through the air towards him. It flashed through the formation of the Dementors in front of him, catching one on the side and sending it stumbling.

Sirius jumped upwards and clutched with all his strength at the head of his nearly-invisible Nimbus 1980, which he'd summoned from outside the gate. The force of his jump was enough to turn the Nimbus, which had followed his upward trajectory, completely around and sent both rider and broom in the air spiraling in the air crazily, just above the heads of the Dementors and just out of their reach.

Sirius struggled with the broom, rolled over the Dementors and, once he was clear of them, dipped downwards, behind the Dementors' backs- just as some of the Aurors managed to pierce the Age Line and rushed onto the Muggle road.

Sirius flew- still clutching at tip of the broom, his body splayed behind him strangely- in an unpredictable, zigzag motion along the ground, not caring even to seat himself properly, headed for the open gates.

Sirius began to cackle out in breathless, excited laughter, the sound seeming to echo off the trees, as several curses whizzed by him. He sounded more than a little crazy, even to himself.

The Aurors all stared dumbly at Sirius Black's back as he flew recklessly through the front gate, through their hastily-erected wards, and vanished with a pop. His careless, insane laughter had made their hair stand on end.

None of them had seen the disillusioned Nimbus 1980 that he was using to fly.

Later, all of them would confirm in their reports that Sirius Black was completely off his rocker. And all of them would swear (with several offering to take Veritaserum) that Sirius Black could fly – without a broom beneath him.

* * *

Sirius appeared in the clearing, still breathless with wild laughter. He let the Nimbus 1980 fall to the ground beside him and wiped the tears from his eyes, still chuckling. His body was beginning to shake with strong tremors, and he plopped down on the grass where he stood.

The werewolf in front of him howled, the chilling sound echoing through the clearing and the forest beyond.

"Oh hey Moony, there you are," Sirius said to the giant werewolf that was now pacing the length of its cage, its teeth bared at him and hackles raised. Its deep yellow eyes glittered menacingly in the light of the moon. A low growl was running through its chest.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Sirius told him.

Sirius looked at Kreacher, who was standing next to a still-unconscious Lockhart and observing Sirius unwaveringly, an assessing expression on his face.

"Kreacher…" Sirius said slowly, "You like using your wand, don't you?"

"Kreacher likes it," Kreacher nodded, staring at him suspiciously.

"Well, then," Sirius smiled, "I'm afraid I can't let you continue using it-"

"Filthy Master must do what he wants. Kreacher cannot stop him," Kreacher spat out, beginning to glare at him.

"-unless…" Sirius trailed off.

"Master says unless," Kreacher looked at him hopefully, "Master must tell Kreacher what he means."

* * *

"Here be your tea, Professor Dumby" the small House Elf said, laying down a tea tray on a table in Dumbledore's living quarters.

"Thank you, Tiny," Dumbledore said kindly, glancing up from the Daily Prophet he was reading.

"You be welcome, Professor," the House Elf said happily, and then Disapparated with a crack.

Dumbledore looked back at the article he had been reading before the interruption, a small frown on his face.

_"He just Apparated in the middle of our living room yesterday morning, through our wards. I didn't recognize him, so I drew my wand and asked him who he was. In response, he pointed a wand, of all things, at me (if you can believe it!) and disarmed me. He then did the same to my wife and the kids. It caught us completely by surprise, of course," Lord Parkinson said yesterday, giving a recounting of the horrific incident to the Daily Prophet after the Aurors left his house. _

_"He was wearing a filthy loincloth around his middle, and he looked very old. All of us could tell there was something not quite right with his head when he smiled at us. It sent a shiver down our spines, I can tell you. He bound us to the couch, mumbling something about it being an honor to see Pureblood Wizards like us, and that his Mistress would be proud of the way"Kreacher" was treating us- which was his name, I believe. He said something about his Master giving him permission to do anything he wanted with the wand when we tried to protest." _

_"He then went through every room in our house eagerly. Now that I think about it, it was almost as if he wanted to clean them all. He turned them all upside down and made the rooms ten times dirtier than they were before. He broke half the dishes in the kitchen, flooded the bathrooms and tossed out the family radio, muttering something about it being "Muggle filth". He even went through my wife's delicates- which she won't touch now. He stunned our Family Elf when he tried to intervene." _

_"He conjured the Dark Mark over our house when he finished destroying my house, and then he left. Thankfully, none of us were harmed, but we were all shook up. My younger daughter had to be given a calming draught before she would stop sobbing."_

_It's disquieting to think that a House Elf was ordered to ransack the House of a prominent Pureblood family, and that it was given a wand to help it with the task. The presence of the Dark Mark tells us it was undoubtedly the work of Dark Wizards. _

_This writer suspects Sirius Black is behind this incident. Perhaps Black has recruited other Dark Wizards to help him with his goal of taking over our world. It must be noted that this was not a ploy seen in the first war. Black's tactics appear to be different than the tactics his dead Master, the Dark Lord He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, used before. _

_House Elves, like all other magical creatures, are not permitted to carry wands by Wizarding law. The House Elf, its Mistress and Master (which the House Elf mentioned) are all guilty of breaking several Wizarding laws. They will be convicted and sentenced to Azkaban if caught, while the House Elf will be put down by the Ministry. _

_The Aurors and representatives from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures haven't been able to trace the House Elf so far or ascertain its identity. Auror Dawlish was quick to assure us that this was an isolated incident, and that the "nutter House Elf" and its owners would be found and dealt with posthaste. _

Dumbledore put the Daily Prophet down, picked up his cup of tea and sipped at it, deep in thought.

Sirius was certainly… livening things up lately. The Daily Prophet was full of rumors about the man and his supposed exploits. Almost everything that was happening in the Wizarding world, from the recent kidnapping of Lockhart and the sudden rise in popularity of the Weird Sisters, to the recent fall in cauldron prices, and now this House-Elf incident, was being attributed to the man.

Dumbledore had it on good authority that Sirius Black had, in fact, kidnapped his soon-to-be Defense and the Dark Arts Professor. This time, it appeared, that the curse on the job had struck before the Dark Arts professor could teach a single class.

Dumbledore could only guess why Sirius had felt the need to go after his Defense teacher. He probably thought that Dumbledore would appoint Remus Lupin as the new Defense professor. And Dumbledore had to admit that he'd probably have to give Remus the job; unless he wanted a Ministry spy at Hogwarts.

Dumbledore had also recently been contacted by Barty Crouch, Sr. The man, who was in St. Mungos, had revealed to him that his son, the convicted Death Eater, was free and out of Azkaban. He'd also told him the Imperius curse he'd placed on his son had worn off the night his magic had been taken from him. Dumbledore was convinced that Barty Crouch, Jr. would go looking for his Master, Lord Voldemort, now. Dumbledore had made a decision to reconvene the Order of the Phoenix and put Harry under guard, just to be safe.

He needed to talk to Sirius, and he needed to do it soon, before the situation could devolve further. The man still hadn't killed anyone, as far as Dumbledore was aware, and perhaps he could still be reasoned with.

And the only way he could contact the man was through his best friend.

Dumbledore knew it was time to get in touch with Remus and to try and appeal to the man's better sensibilities. Now that his Potions Master had left for Spain on a vacation, perhaps Dumbledore could invite Remus for dinner at the castle.

Dumbledore drained the last of his tea and got up with a sigh. He summoned his coat and hat from the stand- he had an appointment to keep.

* * *

_"Enervate," _Sirius said, pointing his wand at Lockhart. The man opened his eyes, blinking rapidly, and then sat up a moment later with a loud gasp, looking about him confused panic.

When he saw the werewolf in front of him, he did a good impression of a little girl screaming in terror and began backing away from the cage, using his hands and feet, as if his life depended on it.

His high-pitched screams set Sirius' teeth on edge. So much for Gilderoy Lockhart, Wizard Extraordinaire, the hero of the Wizarding world and slayer of feral Werewolves.

"_Silencio" _Sirius muttered. Lockhart stopping backing away and looked confused for just a moment when no sound came from his open mouth. He finally spotted Sirius, sitting on the ground some distance to his left. When Lockhart's eyes locked with his, the man's expression morphed into one of sheer terror.

"_Levicorpus_", Sirius thought, flicking his wand upwards.

Lockhart was immediately turned upside down and suspended in the air, as if from invisible ropes.

"Do you like my camp, Gilderoy?" Sirius inquired quietly as he summoned Lockhart towards him. The man's body began to drift slowly in his direction. "It's not something as grand as what you're used to, I'm afraid, but it's nothing to laugh at... You know, we came out here camping once for a couple of nights during the summer, just after our fourth year. Yeah…the old gang, all of us together… James… Remus…_Pettigrew… _and me. This is where we built the bonfire," he said, patting at a spot on the ground to his left, "and that's exactly where we put up our tent last time," he said, pointing at his tent. "We had a whale of a time…And now here we are again… my best friend is dead," he stated morosely, "Merlin, I need a drink."

Sirius summoned a bottle of Firewhiskey from his tent and took a long swig straight form the bottle; ignoring werewolf Moony, who was glaring at him almost disapprovingly. He canceled the Silencing Charm on the man with a lazy wave of his wand.

"W-w-what do you want from me, S-Sirius?" Lockhart squeaked out, struggling helplessly, his eyes darting this way and that, as he drew closer to him, "Why are you d-doing this? W-what have I ever done to you?"

Sirius let the bottle of Firewhiskey fall from his hands and got to his feet.

"You smiled at me, Lockhart," Sirius told him.

"W-what?"

"I am going to give you a chance to demonstrate your talents," Sirius told him, pointing his wand at the man's chest and bringing him to a stop a few feet away from him, "My friend here, Fenrir -," Sirius said with a slow smile, indicating the werewolf beside them.

Lockhart's eyes widened and he began hyperventilating.

"-Greyback has agreed to assist you in your demonstration."

Lockhart fainted.

"Wow… He's an even bigger wuss than you are," Sirius glanced at the Werewolf.

The werewolf growled at him, the entire cage vibrating with the power of the sound.

"So you claim," Sirius remarked doubtfully, "Right then, where were we? Oh yeah… _Enervate._"

Lockhart opened his eyes. Large beads of sweat were now streaming down his face and his breathing was loud and erratic.

"Now I know old Fenrir here isn't as feral and bloodthirsty as the Austrian werewolves you're used to," Sirius continued, just as the werewolf chose to growl again, "You'll just have to make do with what you have, I'm afraid."

Lockhart screamed and fainted again.

"Damn it, what the fuck is wrong with him? I'll never be able to sleep tonight, at this rate," Sirius exclaimed, "_Enervate."_

"Don't faint when I'm talking to you," Sirius told him seriously, poking him on the chest with one finger, "It's irritating and it's not polite."

"N-n-n-n-n-no p-p-p-p-p-please," Lockhart stuttered out.

"If you're not going to show me that immensely complex Homorphus Charm of yours, then I have no use for you. I'll just have to turn you into a rabbit and feed you to Fenrir. He hasn't had his dinner yet, and I'm afraid he's just a little cranky because of that. He's not very picky, so I'm sure he won't mind eating you."

Lockhart's eyes rolled up and he fainted once more.

Sirius threw up his hands in the air, "That's it. I give up."

The werewolf whined.

Sirius looked at it. "You're right, I shouldn't give up so easily," Sirius nodded, ignoring the werewolf when it began to shake its head in a side to side motion frantically and growling, "_Enervate."_

Sirius transfigured Lockhart into a rabbit, grabbed him with his ears and walked calmly to the cage. The werewolf began to back away from them, still whining. Sirius tossed Lockhart through the bars and watched impassively as the rabbit landed on the floor of the silver cage on its side, skidded once and came to a stop in between the forepaws of the werewolf.

The rabbit lay there, limp and unmoving, its eyes almost glassy. The werewolf bent down cautiously and sniffed at it once or twice, and made a face when it smelled the strong scent of urine.

"He's not dead right?" Sirius asked him, sounding hopeful.

The werewolf shook its head. It then stepped between rabbit Lockhart and Sirius, when Sirius raised his wand again. It began to howl loudly, snapping and snarling at Sirius.

"Alright, alright…Merlin… Okay, I won't _Enervate _him again. Happy?"

The werewolf stopped snapping at him and nodded grouchily.

* * *

The two exhausted men sat side by side in the clearing, watching the sun rise through the trees.

"That was just cruel, Sirius," Remus told him, sounding disappointed in him.

Sirius hid his wince with a shrug, "I suppose it was… It's just that I can't stand him. I was just having a little fun, Moony."

"It wasn't what you said you'll do," Remus said disapprovingly.

Sirius grimaced guiltily, "Well, yeah… At least we know now he hasn't changed, right?"

Remus said nothing for a minute. Then he sighed and nodded, "Yeah, I suppose."

"By the way," Sirius asked him, eager to change the topic, "I switched your Wolfsbane with a useless potion when you weren't looking. So how were you in control of yourself tonight?"

"I knew you'd do that," Remus replied, rolling his eyes, "I saw you snickering when I talked about it. You're really transparent sometimes. So I picked up two doses of Wolfsbane today instead of one."

"Ohh…"

"What are we going to do with him anyway?" Remus asked.

"I used Legilimency on him," Sirius told him, "He has a lot of secrets, and so he can be blackmailed. Turns out he never did any of the things he claimed he did. He Obliviated people all over the world and took the credit for their heroic deeds. He's a real piece of work, Lockhart…"

"I see," Remus said with a frown.

"In any case, it looks like you won't be teaching at Hogwarts this year, after all, Moony. I've found myself a new recruit. You can go next year. I probably won't be headmaster by then, so we'll need you spying for us then."

"Yeah okay…"

Neither of the two spoke for a time.

"Why were you laughing when you came back anyway?" Remus asked him curiously, "You sounded demented."

"Ohh, I was just having some fun with the Aurors…"

"Aurors? What Aurors?"

"They arrived at Goldilock's house," Sirius told him, throwing his head at Lockhart, who was sleeping peacefully after he had been force-fed three separate Calming Draughts, "Trying to capture me and trying to protect their hero, Flashy-teeth, there."

"I'm assuming you escaped, intact."

"Yeah…"

"Why are you so obsessed with his teeth anyway?" Remus looked at him strangely, after a moment, "I swear, it's almost as if you're jealous or something…"

Sirius said nothing, looking away.

"That's it, isn't it?" Remus' eyes widening in realization, "You're jealous of his teeth!"

"Of course not," Sirius snapped.

"Y-You're lying!" Remus began to laugh.

"I'm not," Sirius insisted.

Remus howled with laughter.

"Shut up, Moony," Sirius growled.

Remus collapsed on his side, clutching at his stomach, tears streaming down his face, still howling with laughter.

"Damn it, just stuff it, you stupid big, overgrown mongrel…"

* * *

Dumbledore stood on the porch of a small, neatly kept house in a sleepy Muggle village. He knocked on the door politely. He waited, peering curiously at a Muggle wind-chime that was tinkling in the breeze beside him.

The door opened a few moments later. A young, stern-faced Witch greeted Dumbledore, her eyes softening when they fell on him, "Albus, come in, please."

"Thank you, my dear."

Dumbledore was led into a cheerful living room, and offered a seat in a comfortable looking armchair. He looked about him curiously- he'd never been in his Arithmancy professor's house before.

"Tea, Albus?" Septima Vector asked him politely, taking a seat in front of him.

"No thank you. I had a cup before coming."

"Well then, what can I do for you?" she asked him, spreading her hands outwards.

"I'm sorry for bothering you when you're on leave, my dear, when you're no doubt looking forward to some rest and relaxation." Albus said, smiling.

"It's alright, Albus… It's not like I have a lot of plans this summer; other than preparing lesson plans for next year, of course…" she smiled at him, the corners of her mouth turning upwards a little, "Did you need something from me?"

"Yes, well… I've been having problems with my Arithmancy calculations…" Dumbledore offered.

"Yeah, so have I," Septima nodded.

"And do you think it's tied to the-"

"-escape of Sirius Black?" she asked him, making a face at the name, "Yes, I do."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I'm sure you have an idea of why…?" she looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I do, but I would like to hear your thoughts on the matter, my dear."

Septima nodded and drew her wand from her robes. She levitated the small table in the center of a room aside and used her wand to roll up the carpet against a showcase to the right.

She conjured a large, circular water pond on the living room floor.

"Imagine, Albus, that this is the Wizarding world," she said, indicating the pond. "Now," she said, conjuring a small stone and holding it in her hand, "imagine this pebble to be the average Witch or Wizard." She dropped the pebble into the center of the pond. Concentric ripples began to spread outwards from where she had dropped it, "Every witch or wizard affects the world around them. Even the smallest action has an effect on the world." She conjured several pebbles and dropped them in pond, "Their actions interact with each other, and affect our world accordingly."

"Now this," she continued, conjuring a much larger stone, "is an extraordinary witch or wizard, like yourself or Lord Voldemort." She dropped it into the pond, creating a far bigger splash than before, "His or her action every action will have vastly stronger consequences because of the power they command- magical or otherwise…"

"I see," Dumbledore said calmly.

"And this," she said finally, conjuring a smaller than average pebble, "was Sirius Black."

"Was?" Dumbledore asked her curiously.

"Indeed," she said, discreetly casting an _Impervius _on herself. She transformed the conjured pebble into a boulder and let it fall. It created a monumental splash when it landed in the pond, where it wedged in the floor with a crack and caused water to spurt all over her living room, "That's Sirius Black now."

"I see," Dumbledore said serenely, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his now somewhat wet robes, to get rid of the water drops that were dripping down them.

"Wizards aren't pebbles, of course," she told him, managing to keep a straight face as Dumbledore cast a spell to dry the water in his beard, "They are people. People change. Something happened to Sirius in Azkaban. Perhaps his mind snapped? Perhaps he no longer understands boundaries? In any case, he changed; a lot. I didn't know him very well before, so I can only guess at his state of mind now."

"And why do you think that should affect the Arithmancy calculations, my dear?" Dumbledore asked her, surveying her over his half-moon glasses, a twinkle in his eyes.

"I will attempt to make an educated guess," she said slowly, gathering her thoughts. "Arithmancy, as you know, is a branch of magic that is based on numbers. Numbers have vibrations, and magic, which is all around us and linked to all we do, has vibrations too. The numbers we use correspond to different…frequencies of magic. And so when we obtain numbers in a certain pattern, we know that the magic has acted in a certain way, and can predict future events from the current pattern- because it is always a domino effect. The present molds the future. We can make small changes here and there, and hope that our actions have the consequences we intended, but we can no more oppose the direction the dominoes are falling in than we can move mountains. Are you with me so far, Albus?"

Dumbledore nodded at her to continue.

"At the moment, magic is being thrown off kilter. My guess would be that Sirius Black is attempting to break a law of magic… perhaps he's even attempting to interfere with the workings of fate. While this wouldn't matter if it was the average Witch or a Wizard, Sirius _Black _does have some very significant talents to back him in the pursuit of his goals- and, from the way the magic is reacting, Sirius is succeeding. Not even Voldemort came close to succeeding, Albus. Black has become unpredictable, even unstable. It's safe to say none of us expected him to break out of Azkaban, let alone proclaim himself to be a Dark Lord… Regardless, his actions are affecting the balance. Black is chaos personified. I'm afraid there is no predicting chaos."

"Indeed. Your assessment is one I can agree with," Dumbledore told her calmly.

"After checking some of the books in the Ministry library and at Hogwarts, I can safely conclude that this has happened only once before in recorded history," she told him.

"And when was that, my dear?"

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes, "More than a thousand years ago, Albus, before the time of the founders… during the time of Merlin."

* * *

Harry was having a somewhat frustrating week. He began to push the lawnmower over the lawn again, scowling mutinously. Every time he asked his Aunt Petunia about Sirius Black this week, she'd clammed up, not met his eyes and given him a chore. His relatives couldn't lock him up this summer, or starve him, but they could certainly make him suffer.

This was the third time he'd been told to mow the lawn. There wouldn't be any grass left to mow at this rate, Harry thought.

Luckily for him, Tonks, who came by three times a week for "guard duty" – Harry had figured it guard duty meant keeping an eye on him- had charmed his lawn mower for him, so that it moved without Harry having to push at it very hard.

Harry couldn't say he was unhappy, though. He could read "_The Dark Arts Unleashed"_, riffle through his school books and complete his homework at night. Moody's threats seemed to have kept his uncle from burning his things. He could also go to the park everyday in the evening and sit on the swings there. Dudley was scared of him, and wouldn't let his gang of bullies touch Harry now, so Harry didn't have to run for his life now.

It was fast turning out to be the best summer of his life, despite the countless number of chores he was being forced to do.

Now, if only he could find out why his Aunt wouldn't meet his eyes…

Harry was sure now, more than ever, that his Aunt was hiding something- and it had something to do with his godfather, Sirius Black.

* * *

Harry was up in the attic of the house, rummaging through old cardboard boxes that held an assortment of old, mostly useless items. He'd seen his Aunt Petunia come up here the day before, after he'd pestered her about Sirius Black again and given him a chore. When she'd left the attic, Harry was sure she'd been crying, because her eyes were red and puffed up, and she'd locked herself in her room for hours afterwards.

Had something up here upset her? Harry was desperate to find out. He wasn't really allowed to be up here, but his Aunt was having a shower at the moment. He could take a quick look before she noticed that he was up here, instead of cleaning the windows, again, as he should be.

Harry's eyes fell on a small, old cardboard box in the corner that looked as if it had been handled recently. Harry went over to it, picked it up and looked inside. An old photo album was sitting at the bottom.

Harry picked the album up curiously, letting the cardboard box fall to the floor.

He opened it and began riffling through it. They appeared to be photos of his Aunt Petunia when she was in her late teens, or early twenties. She wasn't very attractive, Harry thought, but she certainly didn't look as bad as she did now.

There were a couple of photos of his grandparents in the album. Harry looked at them in fascination. His grandmother had eyes just like him, while his grandfather reminded him of a kinder version of Dudley. His Aunt never talked about them, even if Dudley was the one who asked her. Harry wondered why that was...

At the very end of the album, Harry saw a photo that was sticking out from under another photo. Harry pulled it out of its casing curiously.

Harry stared incredulously at the Wizarding photo in his hand. He saw three people sitting at a table. In the middle sat his mother, wearing a beautiful white dress which had to be her wedding gown. She was smiling and sticking her tongue out at the camera, looking radiantly happy. To her left sat a very handsome man Harry was sure was his godfather, Sirius Black. He looked good enough to be a movie star, Harry thought, and nothing like he did in the photo Harry had seen of him in the Prophet. The man was grinning at the camera and sipping at the champagne glass in his hand. To the right of his mother sat his Aunt Petunia.

Harry was sure she was sneaking glances at his godfather for some reason, and his godfather didn't seem to notice.

Harry turned the photo around, just to see if there was a date on it. He stared at the writing on it incredulously, and then stared some more. He didn't even notice when the Photo Album fell from his slack fingers and fell to the floor of the attic with a heavy thud.

"BOY, is that you?" his Aunt voice echoed up to this ears.

Harry wasn't paying attention. His mind was struggling to comprehend what he was seeing.

"Boy, are you up in the attic?" There was the sound of running footsteps. His Aunt Petunia stood in the doorway, a dangerous scowl on her face. When she saw what was on the floor and what he was holding, her scowl vanished. Her cheeks reddened and she sucked in her breath.

Harry read the writing again, desperately trying to understand. It was written in his Aunt's handwriting, between two small hearts: _Sirius, my first true love, I will never forget the wondrous night we spent together. You made my first time very memorable. P."_

"Y-y-you had s-… you lost your v… you and my godfather, Sirius Black?" Harry stared at his Aunt, horrified and completely freaked-out.


End file.
